Inheritance of Existence
by Ares Burn
Summary: What is the story behind the Hebrew god, Yahweh? Most scholars and historians believe the biblical stories originated with Canaan and its mythology. In this story, follow the journey of Yahweh from god to God.
1. The Sons of God

"Father has issued a meeting in his council chambers this morning. Are you going to come with me?"

The bored sigh and almost agitated tone were unusual, coming from Father's chief war councilor and general—the god of war, Ba'al.

Sauntering down the polished stone walkway, the war god's body flickered as he passed the pillars that lined the colonnade. The light of the dawning sun, set just so, gave off the burning hue of fire across his features. In his wake, electricity sparked as the air around him burned with his godly aura—the smell of ozone becoming ever-stronger as he drew closer.

I flickered the storm cloud in the palm of my hands and forced lightning and thunder to sound off. Through the dark, rolling smoke, I could feel the force of the rain brushing against my fingers. A simple trick, but one worthy of my station. I shifted my gaze toward my elder brother.

"I suppose," I said, returning my focus to my project. "Father has a way of becoming very cross if I skirt his summons. Did he incline to tell you the reason? It's so rare for us to be directed to the council chambers these days."

Ba'al grinned at me. "Probably war, again. Those damned Egyptians if I had to guess. Always meddling in affairs that don't concern them." My brother shifted his weight and drew the dagger he had sheathed on his forearm. "Nothing would please me more than slow-roasting Horus over a sacrificial flame. Just the thought has me so…" He trailed off.

I rolled my eyes as Ba'al savored the thought of another war between our pantheons. It was almost as if he got off on it. "I would think the Egyptians' falcon god would be gamey," I told him. Then I remembered that he was not only the god of war. "Unless of course, dear brother, it's not really _eating_ him that you're getting at."

Ba'al cocked an arched stare at me. "A sex joke, really? Is that how you keep the divine armies entertained—orgies? I may be a fertility god, but I have standards, of which Bird-boy does not meet. The only thing of Horus' that I would fuck would be his wife."

 _I'm sure,_ I thought, _over her husband's corpse for the sake of spite._ Of course, I would never tell him that aloud, but given the commonality of his "adventures" and his lust for blood and women, gossip had begun to spread throughout the pantheon as to the details that even the great and boastful Ba'al declined to share.

"It's a wonder how Father loves you so," I said with a laugh.

Ba'al placed his hand on my shoulder, dissipating the storm that I had going. "If I didn't know any better, I could swear that's jealousy I hear in your voice, brother."

I swatted his arm away, smiling. Ba'al was so inclined to tease me, knowing my pride would always give him a rise. "Me, jealous? Never!"

Throwing his head back, Ba'al laughed, jostling his armor and filling the air with an aura of heated bloodlust.

Of all of my brothers, I had always been the closest to Ba'al. He was Father's favorite, his champion. The eldest, he had been gifted astounding powers. Warfare, fertility, and storms were all within his domain. He loved them all and cherished every aspect of his station.

Over the centuries, Ba'al and I had grown close. So much so that he had requested Father make me his second, subservient to him concerning war but divinely authoritative in my own aspects. He had taught me the ways of his arts. Though I had never been the fondest of mortal lovemaking, I had zealously honed my skills in war and with nature. Father cast me as the chief of the armies of Heaven, answerable only to General Ba'al and to him.

The memories danced before me in perfect clarity. Light flashed in my sight alone as Ba'al and reality flittered out of existence. I recalled my first time stepping upon the battlefield of the gods, thousands of mortal lifetimes ago. Far from honed in the art of war, I had led the battlefront of a divine army whose numbers were as innumerous as the stars. In a chariot wheel of fire, I scanned the opposition.

The field between us rested upon the Chaos Sea; its shifting tides rising to the heights of mountains and its waters shimmering in the eternal blackness that beckoned the void. _To touch the waters of chaos,_ Father had told me before Ba'al and I had set off to make war, _would be to force the very fabric of being to unravel itself around us and we would become uncreated._

I was eager, regardless. Ba'al, though next to me in his own chariot, had allowed me to take the reins and sound off to begin the fighting. As he deeply nodded, I shot a bolt of lightning from my fingertips toward a formless sky every bit as black and lifeless as the waters beneath me.

It had been the gods of Egypt that we had gone to fight that time. They and their many gods had outnumbered our own. And in the fighting, I was felled. Had it not been for a violent gust of wind that I had formed, I would have been swept up by the waters.

Upon reorienting myself, I had been surrounded. Horus, the Egyptian god of war, paced methodically toward me, a smile of personal vendetta etched on his lips and his eyes glinting with bloodlust. A wide berth had been given to us, and I knew that I had no hope against the elder foreign war god.

It was Ba'al that saved me, clouding me in a thunderstorm and sending me away.

Despite my brother's actions, the battle was lost. The Egyptians had conquered more of our territory, and it doing so had made an enemy of Ba'al, myself, and the rest of our pantheon.

I came out of my memory just as I recalled the look of disappointment on Father's face upon my return—the shame.

While my own aspects had indeed made me powerful, I was in no league with my brothers—any of them. Although he frequently joked to me, Ba'al had hit a sensitive spot. I was very jealous. The other gods within our pantheon had been given an allotment of power in order from birth.

As the youngest of our father's children, I was, of course, the last to receive a portion. For all my efforts, I had attained the status among the humans as a god of righteous anger and wind. If it were not for Ba'al and Father's kindness, I would have spent many centuries bitterly building on my attributes, perhaps even turning that righteous anger on my own family. Instead, I had been elevated and even feared among the pantheon for my prowess in my fields.

"Come on, Yahweh," Ba'al said, punching me in the chest with the gilded hilt of his dagger. "You said that Father is cross, but he'll nail you to one if you miss out on his assembly summons… again." He turned to walk down the marble stone colonnade that we had met at, down to the far end where a set of intricately-carved, golden double doors opened for him.

Summons. More of a family meeting. Simply another round of mind-numbing droll about nothing.

I slid off the stone railing that I had been lounging on and headed down the same hall. When I came to the doors, I stopped.

The same doors had duplicated themselves throughout the halls of the gods, save for those to our own personal temples.

Large and intimidating, the doors were wide enough for a score of elephants to march through with ease. In mortal terms of size, an archer would be able to fire his arrow directly up and would not hit the top. Though at scale for a god should they wish it, I had always felt small walking through the many entrances held within the grounds.

I scrutinized the details on the paneling. Made of solid gold, each door told the story of creation. Father had formed the heavens and the plane of the gods on the right, and next to it, the formation of the earth and humankind on the left. Every facet so meticulously carved.

 _Creation,_ I thought. _Were it that I had been in Father's place. All the stars would sing of my glory._

I shook off the thought as I flung open the doors with pure willpower. As much as I hated to admit it, Ba'al was correct. Jealousy ran deep within me.

As I passed the doorway, I teleported myself across the area to the center of the council chambers.

Inconceivably large to mortal eyes, the semi-rotunda that made up the chamber was fitted with ivory columns, carved inside of which were the thrones of the council members—Father's seventy children. The room itself was tiered by level, the same as an amphitheater. Rising seven times upon itself, each tier was larger than the one below it, and its columns further spread.

I had always assumed that it was Father's way of prioritizing his children. At the lowest section, on the floor, the ten columned thrones were closest both to one another and to Father, who sat alone in the center upon a throne of pure creative light.

I willed myself to move up to the highest tier, to the throne on the farthest left. The column that held my throne gleamed a polished white. It was large and tall, and detailed along its height with the creative words that gave birth to existence.

The throne itself was a part of the column, padded with the softness of down feathers. On its back, my name was carved vertically in the same language that ran down the sides of the support piece.

I took my seat. As I did, a thundering echo raced from Father, alerting us that the assembly session had begun. Just as well, it also meant that I was the last to sit, again.

 _At least Ba'al is also last,_ I thought. _Father cannot be angry with both of us, especially where his exalted son was concerned._

The entire chamber silenced immediately, and all divine powers were quelled as Father's words filled the room. "Now we the gods shall preside over the fates of mortal men, and of all creation."

I lounged back in my seat, resting my elbow on the arm of the throne and my head in my palm. The council sessions had always begun in the same way. Father's speech had been drilled into us to the extent that we had all memorized its opening.

 _"_ _From the sun, and the moon, and the stars. To the grass, and the trees, and the rocks. From the firmament of the heavens to the primordial sea that is the source of creation. From all the beasts that walk the earth to the mortal men that dwell upon it, and worship us. From the wars that they wage in our names, to the peace that comes thereafter. And from my sons, the Elohim, among whom the powers that create and the powers that destroy are allotted. I, El-Yon, the Most High, and the father of the gods, call to session these judgments herein."_

I took a deep breath. If Fate proceeded to smile, this meeting would not take the decade that the last one had.

So it began.


	2. Yahweh's Portion

"My sons!" Father spoke. "It has not escaped my notice how your constant in-fighting and complete lack of initiative drives you to bicker eternally amongst yourselves. We are in a state of perpetual war with the pantheons of other lands, who ever seek to destroy and humiliate us. These petty grievances you so hold dear must be quelled."

 _It seems like Father does not appreciate our sibling rivalries._ Ba'al telepathically spoke in my mind.

I stifled a smirk. If Father had caught such a thing, he would accuse me of not taking his assembly seriously.

 _No,_ I shot back. _It seems the kings of the earth share that commonality with the princes of the gods. Perhaps they are correct in their boasts of being one of us among mortals._

Then it happened. Ba'al laughed.

My brother sat on his own throne, closest to Father. Immediately, the Great God turned his full attention onto Ba'al, the power and force of which drove hurricane-force winds to cut a swathe toward him.

As a storm god, Ba'al would have been more than able to dissipate the whirlwind. But not from Father. His powers where his sons were concerned were absolute.

The full force of Father's gaze struck Ba'al with enough power to raise him from his throne and throw him into the air. When he crashed onto the floor, the echo of his armor striking the stone thundered throughout the room.

In the complete silence and shock, it was deafening.

"So, child," Father said, his silky voice turbulent with annoyance. "Do you think that you are above such pettiness simply as you are the eldest of my children? Do you believe yourself above the rest in that you may jest at their expense in a matter that makes us a mockery in the eyes of foreign pantheons? Do you think it wise or funny that the other gods wait out the war simply to watch us fight so that we might destroy ourselves for them?"

Ba'al materialized himself to his feet, wiping the dust from his armor and hair. He braced himself as a defiant war general before he addressed Father.

"Nay, sire. I just—"

Father stood up, rising above his throne and growing his physical form in size until he could easily see over the second tier of his sons' thrones. Godly energy and unmitigated power cloaked him as bursts of lightning arced around his being. Father was not happy.

Shit.

"You just _what,_ Ba'al? Laughed—in the face of the assembly, and at one of such magnitude, nonetheless! For what purpose?"

Ba'al did not flinch as Father seethed.

This was incredibly unlike him. Usually, Father held all the patience in the cosmos. And for his beloved General, he would overlook many things.

I supposed humor had fallen off of that list.

Father descended back in size until he was but a head taller than his eldest son. Moving closer, he placed his right hand on the side of Ba'al's face.

As Father looked through my brother's memories to see the cause of his outburst, his head snapped up, and his gaze fell into me with a menacing force.

Double shit.

In the next instant, Father had teleported me down in the center of the forum.

The burning light died a small amount in his eyes. "Yahweh," He spoke softly, but his voice carried far and wide so as to let all of my siblings know exactly why the meeting was interrupted. "I am disappointed. You, my youngest son, have such potential. It shames me to see it so wasted with your tricks and with mockery."

Of course, it did. Father so loved to make me feel the child he saw me as. Never the god that I was.

"Father, I—" I started.

"Do not speak! _El Shaddai_ speaks, and you shall heed his words. You and your brother both."

I stepped back from Father as his eyes literally snapped fire with his anger. When he spoke of himself as the God of the Mountain like that, I knew that he no longer saw himself as our father, but as our king and lord. We had always found it most wise to keep Father as far estranged from his _Shaddai_ epithet as possible.

Father turned away from me to return himself to his throne. As he sat, Ba'al unwillingly appeared to my right side, at Father's feet.

I could feel something pulling at my essence. I was unable to move or to utilize my powers in any way. Father's punishment for misbehavior. From what I could gather, Ba'al had been trapped in it as well.

"The purpose of this assembly," Father spoke. "Was to anoint you, my sons, with the fervor and power that is justly yours by birthright. Though you are gods, and as such hold power unimaginable to the mortals who worship us, you are not within your true scope."

Murmuring broke out above us. The other gods were obviously unsettled by this. It was as if Father was in such a mood as to detail to his children how none of us were acting as a god should and that none of us were worthy of our positions.

I was beginning to miss the lectures where Father spoke of the humans and their doings for what was years of human time. At least then, I was not being brandished as the fool in a king's court.

"It is time that I begin to see you as the gods of your stations, and as patrons of the humans who crawl upon Adamah for their survival. Were it not for these mortals and their worship which fuels our power, we would surely replace them upon their extinction. It is as I have warned you all for these countless millennia: without any worshipers to sustain our memory and power, the gods will be turned mortal."

Every god knew that. It was almost an innate calling within our very being that, from our creation, littered our thoughts every time we ventured into the human realm. Father said it was a decree made so by fate in order that there be a balance among us.

 _Gods without their mortals shall become mortal themselves, replacing them and face death upon the earth, should such a fate become the humans who source their power._

It was because of this that all gods required worship.

Without it, Father only knows. With it, however, war was but a breath away at any time. Though rare, it was even then far too often an occurrence.

My kind of any knows well how the gods go to war. It is not as the mortals do. When the gods aim to destroy one another, it is never directly. They are forbidden from such an action. It is through the masses of humans that worship us that the gods do battle. Each is a pawn by birth and a soldier if called upon. The more human worshipers on one side of the field, the stronger the god. It was an unfortunate event to be caught on the opposing side of such a war. It almost always ended with the death of that god.

We would never let the humans become aware of it, but we needed them as much as they needed us. We fed each other.

"The earth is vast, my sons. Stretching from the mountains to the south of Egypt, to those in the northern reaches of Greece. From the end of Mediterranean Sea at the Pillars of the World to the powerful currents of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers. This land and its inhabitants break into seventy peoples. As there are seventy sons of Elyon, I shall appoint one of you to lord over each piece of the earth, that you might gain worship and status beyond these halls and be known to the kings and servants of the world."

Father's words shocked me. We were to be apportioned the earth and its people? Surely he was aware that the vast majority of it was home to its own pantheons of gods that ruled over them. Egypt, Greece, Sumer, Akkad, Atlantis. They were all powerful within their own rights, and their gods were highly territorial. If we were to be so arrogant as to claim their land and the humans that lived there, a war would be inevitable.

I glanced over at Ba'al. The stunned gloss of his eyes turned to bloodlust and greed as he realized this as well. Father would send his sons to war with the other gods.

"Let it be known as the decree of El, father of the gods, that I give to you, my sons and princes of the gods, inheritance of the earth! I shall divide up all of mankind and set boundaries for the people of Adamah, in accordance with the number of the sons of Elohim."

 _Seventy lands_ , I thought. _Seventy nations for the seventy sons of El. What was Father planning?_

"Ba'al, my son." Father boomed, shaking my brother from his thoughts and turning his attention back to the Most High. "My eldest and heir. It is to you that I gift this land upon which our temples and altars now stand. As is fitting to your station, they are a hearty people as well you know. As such, they call already the name of their god in the rains of the storms and before the heat of battle. Lead them, my Rider on the Clouds. As you have so far led your siblings in our advance against pantheons of foreign gods, so shall you lead the humans and their kings to victory in their lives!"

Ba'al physically shivered as Father's praise rained down upon him. I could understand that. Just a few moments before, everyone here was afraid that Father would put him through a wall. And now, even as he stands as a condemned prisoner, Ba'al had been appointed rulership of the glorious and powerful lands of Canaan—our home.

Applause thundered from our brothers on El's proclamation.

I zoned out as Father continued down his list of divine children. Kothar, the god of crafts and smithing, was given the lands of Lower Egypt as his forge. Yom, god of the sea was given rule of the Greek island of Crete and its dominion over naval trade. Shahar and Shalim, the twin gods of dawn and dusk, were given control over the firmament of the sky and that of the movement of the sun and moon.

 _The last time I checked, Father, neither the firmament nor the celestial spheres within it were technically a part of the earth._ But I was not going to argue, it simply meant there would be more land to divide between us. Just the same, I was not about to call Father out and attract his wrath for the second time.

Father continued his allotments and the praise of the god that he accompanied with it. My brother Chemosh was given the land of Moab on the eastern shore of the Dead Sea. There was not a large population of humans that far from civilization. But then again, Chemosh was a god of destruction and often was very volatile—perhaps it _was_ best that he be distanced in the desert.

I awaited my name being called. As the lands filled, I became increasingly worried that I too would become isolated.

Looking again at my brother, Ba'al winked at me and offered a passing smile. He was one of the only gods that did not despise me; the only one that I had bonded with.

"Yahweh," Father said. His calling of my name and the realization that I had stopped listening made me jump in spite of myself.

I looked up at Father. His expression had turned kind again.

 _Perhaps,_ I hoped, _I would be given a paradisiac land. Please, be Cyprus!_

"My youngest son. My baby boy." Father continued, using names he knew embarrassed me. "To you, I give the land of Samaria. Commander of the armies of Heaven and god of the wind, your presence here will surely give pause to those Egyptian animals should they brave the desert and think themselves mighty enough to march on our lands. May your righteous anger burn in defense of our people and spread like wildfire as a wall to protect our territory."

I could not breathe as Father spoke.

 _He what? Samaria? No. No! Any land but that. Put me in the lands of Upper Egypt, in the hands of the Egyptian gods. Anywhere but there._

I looked again at my eldest brother, listless and dumbfounded.

Not simply because the people of Samaria were drunkards and known for violent outbursts. That was a common trait among mankind as it was. Drunk and disorderly I could deal with. I was a god of war after all. This was different.

Samaria was a small region, enclosed within the land of Canaan and the Mediterranean. Our people used it as an outpost to punish humans guilty of treason. After they were killed, their corpses were thrown into burning refuse dumps near the outskirts of their capital city.

Father then called the assembly session to a close. The rest of the gods dispersed—probably to explore their new homes.

I caught my breath again as Father released his power from Ba'al and myself.

We were alone with Father now. It was a rare moment and one which I craved most days.

But now…

Triple shit.

The Most High rose from his throne and brought himself down to our average height. As he approached us, he held his arms out and embraced one of us with each.

"Do not think me callous for the lands that I have appointed the two of you to. You will thrive best among one another as you always have."

Ba'al pulled away from Father to meet his eyes. "Is this as punishment for our outburst earlier?"

Father smiled at him. "Nay, it is not. Although your childish antics irritate me at times, I do this for the survival of our mortals. I would not be so cruel as to tear the two of you apart."

"But Father," I protested. "Surely you know how barbaric the people of Samaria are. Even if the humans there are warlike, they would never worship me. Chemosh would be celebrated at their very foundations. But I cannot—"

He cut me off with a stern raise of his hand. "You can and you will. You are the god of storms in a dry and arid land. Bring them comfort from their droughts and their praises will be as a torrent from the Mediterranean. As my warrior, you will know by your very nature how to stir them to your will. Let them kill something. Use your righteous anger to direct their warfare toward our borders. Yahweh, you will be the single god of that land and they will worship and revere you on a scale unmatched by any of my sons. I promise you this. Lead them, Yahweh. Show them that they are your people and that you are their god."

Father offered me a vaguely apologetic smile before he vanished, leaving Ba'al and me alone in the assembly room.

I brought myself to my throne, where I took my seat and threw my head backward and yelled in frustration.

Ba'al materialized in front of me.

His armor glinted in the reflective light of the ivory. A fitted tunic of scaled chainmail, Ba'al's armor was beautiful and terrifying even amongst the gods. Each gilded scale, thick and beveled, contained a single letter of the words that breathed the desire of murder into mortal minds. Together, it told a story of warfare and deceit; of power and struggle on a divine level—the story of a primordial war amongst the gods.

A light beard dusted Ba'al's face, contouring the rugged beauty of the fertility god that he was. His eyes shone with the mercurial hue of molten gold, giving off an eerie and hopeless gaze on the field of battle. Behind his back, he held his raven-like hair in a pair of loose braids that came to rest just beneath his shoulder blades.

I looked up at him. At all the scars that marred his deeply tanned face. "You worry too much." He told me. "I would not war with you, Yahweh. Besides, it is not as if I would actually kill you… painfully." Ba'al winked at me again.

No, never. Mercy was such a virtue to a war god.

Rising from my seat, I sighed deeply. "What are we waiting for then, brother?" I said, "Let us go survey our new battlefield."


	3. Sacrifice

Concentrating, I allowed my form to dissipate and travel from the halls of the gods to the plane of the humans—earth.

In honesty, the gods so rarely had visited the humans that worshiped them, I found it amazing that their faith had not waivered centuries before.

But then, humans were a superstitious species. They always had been; seeing the will of the gods in things that were not. Father told me that it was because of this that humans had been so virtuous in their creations and their effort to appease us, but also so violent in their ways to kill one another.

Mortals were complex in a way, but exceedingly simple creatures. Like any other animal, they required sleep, food, and water, and occasionally a mate. But unlike other creatures, they were adaptive, sapient, and self-aware.

I supposed it made them more useful than a monkey.

When Ba'al and I appeared on the earth, the weather of the mortal realm altered itself with our presence. As gods of the storm, the skies gradually darkened as the clouds turned black and heavy with rain, circling around themselves in a vortex. Immediately, lightning and thunder sounded off from above us as the winds picked up and threatened to rip away anything in their path.

But this was only so if we chose it to be. With a breath, I willed the storms to subside and the peaceful weather to regain its place.

All around us, a small crowd of humans gathered together. Completely unnoticed, my brother and I hovered about the people.

They were a strange group of mortals. While their land existed within Canaan, their customs were a mix between ours and those of Egypt, which straddled the borders to the south. The towering walls of their capital city rose beyond the crowd. Made of large limestone blocks, they cast a long and protective shadow over the people.

But they were on the outside of the city.

All around us, plumes of fire bellowed. Smoke and cinder engulfed the air as did the smell of burning flesh.

Human sacrifice.

"Where are we?" I asked Ba'al.

"We are in Gehanna," Ba'al answered. "Outside of the capital city of the province of Samaria, Shalim."

Our brother's name. Of course, the egotistic prick had named the capital after himself. The god of dusk, I suppose it was a fitting name for the city that last saw the sun as nightfall came.

I turned to see my brother in a state of disgusted shock. His attention was not with me any longer but on the towering golden figure perched upon a hill, away from the gathered human.

Confused at Ba'al's expression, I brought myself to face the statue.

Large and ornate, it had been forged into the likeness of the Greeks' minotaur—a man with the facial features of a bull. The creature sat upon a throne, which was made of ivory and laden with large blue stones of lapis upon its arms and backrest. In a way, it reminded me of the thrones within the council room.

On the statue's lap, a fire blazed in a stone hearth. The sitting figure's arms were raised in the manner that humans prayed to the gods—its arms out above its thighs, with its palms raised to the sky. The fires burned below the hands.

 _What kind of god is this?_ I thought. As it was, no god showed their divine form to a human. Such an act would cause their blood to boil and their skin to turn to ash and scatter in the wind.

Still, were they so simple as to think us monsters as this?

"Ba'al," I said, bringing him to me. "What do you make of this?"

The war god bellowed in laughter. "You need to socialize with humans more often, Yahweh. They are dumb creatures. Very pictorial. This is an altar to us."

Obviously. Why Ba'al was not paraded as the god of sarcasm, I would never know.

"You're such an ass," I told him. " _Which_ one of us?"

He studied the statue for some kind of clue. "Father is usually depicted as a bull among the mortals. It is a way for them to comprehend that he is king among the rest of us. To them, a bull is the most powerful of animals, and so all the others bow to its strength and beauty."

Beautiful was not a word I would have described the altar as. It was unsightly.

Before my brother could speak more, a man dressed in a white hooded robe ascended the steps to the bull's altar. There was a child in his arms. At the base of the statue, a woman screamed in grief and heartache as a group of soldiers tore at her before she could chase after the priest and the child.

Her child.

The priest laid the baby out in the hands of the bull. The infant screamed as its body touched the hot metal, but the priest ignored its cries.

Slicing his palms with the knife he held, the priest raised his hands to the sky.

"We, the people of the lands of Samaria, pray to the great and glorious gods." He began, "That they might grant us an end to the droughts that plague our lands and deny us our crops. To this end, we give a child—fresh from the womb of its mother, and virgin to all the ways of the gods—as a ransom unto you, Ba'al, lord of abundance, that you might exchange your favor and gift of rain!"

 _Oh…_

"Brother," I said, not moving my eyes from the priest as he pulled a knife from his belt. "I would say they are not praying to Father for rain."

Thunder cracked in the clear sky with Ba'al's anger. "These are your people now, Yahweh. Do something about them."

As the priest thrust his knife downward at the newborn, I willed his weapon to vaporize in the wind, leaving his hand empty.

Before his mortal mind had time to comprehend what I had done, I manifested my form and took possession of the infant's body.

I opened the baby's eyes to a world of swirling hues of blue and white. A moment later, a force slammed into me. It was the priest's empty hand.

 _Thank El I took away his knife._

My vision blurred from the impact. Humans were such fragile, dainty creatures. Especially their offspring _._

"Ouch!" I yelled out, radiating my own voice through the child. "That hurt!"

The priest jumped away in shock. A talking child; surely he was insane.

The human stammered around, locking his fingers above his head as if to protect himself from getting struck by lightning.

As if that would protect him.

"Is this how you would greet your gods?" I demanded. I forced the baby's body to stand up on its feet. It was dead; killed by the heat from the fire below.

The priest trembled as he fell to his knees. "Please, Lord Ba'al." He said, stuttering his words in fear. "We wish only to appease you."

"By the murder of a child?" I responded. With my words, thunder cracked again across the sky, gathering angry storm clouds above the statue. With a thought, I could kill all of them. "Were it that you were in its place."

"Y—yes, my Lord." The priest managed. He choked as if he were holding back a sob. "If it is your will, I will happily throw myself upon your altar in service to my people's plight!"

 _Perhaps he is not the monster I had believed. Ba'al may have been correct that I should spend more time in their world._

Sighing, I released the storm clouds.

"I would not have your death, mortal," I told him. "However, I would have your veneration."

The priest looked confused. Of course, these altars and sacrifices were veneration enough for them. They knew no other way.

"Listen, the Rider on the Clouds speaks to you now," I told him, allowing my voice to echo throughout the valley so that all the mortals present and within the capital could hear. Through the baby's eyes, I could not see Ba'al, though I knew he was listening to every word I said. I only hoped he would not be angry for my impersonating him. "By the divine authority of Elyon, Most High among Creation, and father to the gods and men, I, Ba'al, relinquish my command of Samaria and her people—of her cities and farms, and of all that is within its boundaries—to my brother, chief of the armies of Heaven, and lord of the winds, Yahweh. By him shall you venerate us, and by him that your prayers shall be answered. In this, you shall tear down your likeness of the bull wherever it may be found, and never again set a child to flame in hope for rain!"

I had never been one for long-winded speeches like Father was. I only hoped that the humans would come to accept it without my divine intervention. They wanted rain, but a flood would get the message across.

 _I will use that as a last resort._ I thought to myself.

The priest laughed nervously as he rose and turned to the crowd of people that had gathered around the hilltop. "Do you hear the command of the gods?" He shouted, raising his hands in a bowl shape above his head. "The god of storms and fertility supplants himself with a god of wind! I tell you, people of Samaria, this is a trick upon us by demons declaring themselves as the gods. Ba'al is with us always! Ba'al Hadad! Ba'al Zaphon! Ba'al, our Rider on the Clouds!"

I was growing annoyed with the insolence of this priest. Willing the clouds to rumble, I called down lightning upon the man, who vaporized instantly into ash.

The humans below screamed and panicked. This was not going as planned.

"Calm yourselves, mortals!" I told them. "Know that you are Yahweh's people now and that Yahweh is your god!"

Their panic only increased after that. Though they associated me with Ba'al, they would not so easily accept me alone.

I willed the child to leap from the arms of the bull altar, as I descended the steps toward the screaming humans below. The mother of the child whose body I had possessed was still being held down by a small group of armed soldiers. Flinging my hands out, I killed the men, raining blood over the poor woman.

 _Oops._

"Be still, woman," I told her before she could get up to flee. "I would not have your fear turn to deeper grief."

The woman broke into tears as the voice of a god came from her baby's mouth.

"Pick me up, woman, " I told her, "And when I leave, your child shall be returned to you."

She shook as a leaf in a storm but obeyed what I had said. The moment her hands touched the child, I willed myself to leave its body, returning it to life.

As I retook my divine form, I was met with Ba'al glaring at me. For a moment, I was afraid he was going to attack me. Instead, my brother burst into laughter.

Sheepishly, I took a relieved breath. "What is so funny?"

"You, Yahweh." He said with a grin. "Your social graces are lacking more so than Chemosh's or Anat's. Damned if I knew that was even possible."

Ba'al's twin sister and the goddess of bloodlust and violence, Anat was not known for her love of mortals. Father had not even bothered giving her territory during the council meeting. For her station, she usually accompanied Ba'al and myself into battle, stirring the mortals into a frenzy before the fighting began, and all but reaching orgasm as they tore into each other with a vengeance.

"It wasn't that bad," I said, trying to defend myself.

Ba'al stifled another laugh as he directed his hand toward the humans below us. "You possessed a sacrificial human child and spoke to them through it. If that weren't more than enough for their mortal minds to comprehend, you struck their priest dead with lightning and caused several soldiers to explode into gore over the child's mother, before leaping into her arms as if you were an excited dog." He wiped a tear from his eye as he continued. "I would say they fear you, dear brother. Loving you, though, is a new matter altogether."

 _I should have just sent a flood._ I thought.

"As if you would have fared better?" I inquired.

Ba'al scoffed. "I needn't fare better. Mortals in Canaan have already been worshiping me for centuries."

I curled my lip in frustration. "As I said, brother. You're an ass."

Snapping my fingers, I made the storm clouds above the city open their floodgates and allowed rain to fall onto the ground.

The humans began to jeer and dance.

"Come on," Ba'al called to me. "There is much more to this land than a small, walled village."

Ba'al and I flittered along minor villages, most no larger than a small collection of huts. In every one of them, the people were gathered around a central hearth fire, singing and playing music as the rest raised their hands to the sky.

More prayer for rain.

As we came to each one, I materialized a small raincloud above each village. Just large enough to encircle its borders, I allowed the rain to quell their thirst and answer their prayers.

"These people need more than just rain, Yahweh," Ba'al explained. "Hope and a feeling of protection go a long way in their worship of us. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it in time."

My brother took me next to a large hill, overlooking the land and separating it from the sea. Not the highest mountain in Samaria, it served to protect the majority of the land from the tidal floods that would occasionally pummel the coast.

I had scattered storm clouds throughout the area, temporarily relieving the people from their drought. Still, the winds had followed us and threw the grove into its tempest. Willing the winds to cease, I looked around.

At our backs, the waves of the Mediterranean died into a gentle caress. The sea was a neutral region between the gods—an overflowing deposit of the Great Chaos Sea which pre-existed the earth—it belonged to no single pantheon of gods. Although certain sea gods could be very possessive over the coastal areas within their borders, the Greek god Poseidon especially, given his pantheon's vast array of islands. We could each travel the sea without crossing into the territory of another pantheon, and by extension, the mortals could survive on its bounty as a single species, unconcerned with the politics of the gods.

It was the one thing the gods of all pantheons could all agree on.

To the east of the Mediterranean, the land rose and fell as the plains of the coast gave way to the small mountain that we hovered above.

Below us, an opening on the hillside gave way into a flat, green surface.

"This place is of great importance, Yahweh," Ba'al told me, although I had long since stopped listening to his tour. I knew the lands of Canaan well, I simply had not ever made a point to go out and explore them. "From the Mediterranean, the humans can use it to navigate toward Samaria. They call it—"

Suddenly, Ba'al's voice died into silence. Looking over to where he was, I saw that he was gone. Humans materialized themselves into the clearing below me. Hundreds of them.

 _They shouldn't be able to do that._ I thought.

I brought myself closer to their location. In the center of the clearing, two large wooden altars had appeared. Empty underneath, as if a bench, the ashen remains of burnt branches littered the altar.

In front of the two, an old, bald man called for the attention of the gathered army of unarmed men.

"How much longer will you go limping between two opinions?" He called to the others, most of which scoffed and threw insults in response. "If Yahweh is the true god, follow him! But if Ba'al is Lord, then follow him!"

 _That was quick._ I thought. _Surely I had just gained their acceptance earlier in the day._

No one among the gathered crowd responded.

The old man continued to speak. "I am the only remaining priest of Yahweh." He called to them. "But Ba'al's priests number four hundred and fifty!"

The only remaining priest? Well, I supposed it was one more than I had in my name than before. I wondered, though, where this man had learned to count. Aside from him, there were almost a thousand humans in the area. A numbering system as the one in Babylon had obviously not caught on in Samaria.

"Let two bulls be given to us." He continued. "Let the priests of Ba'al choose one bull for themselves, cut it in pieces, and lay it on the wood, but put no fire to it. I will prepare the other bull and lay it on the wood, and just the same, put no fire to it. Then you call on the name of Ba'al and I will call on Yahweh; the god who answers by fire is indeed the one, true god!"

The crowd erupted in agreement. It was a contest.

 _One, true god? Surely these people weren't so dense. Of course there was more than one. They had to have passed by the enormous garden of Ba'al's altars in Gehanna to come here._

The mass of mortals brought out a pair of sacrificial bulls. On one altar, they slew a bull and began to carve it to pieces, while the bald man who had led them to the grove killed the other. Oil was poured from gourds onto the sacrifice from the men, who had to have been Ba'al's priests.

The crowd of men began to shout and call my brother's name, trying to get him to light their offering. They continued for what had to be hours, even going so far as to cut at themselves with their knives.

Ba'al had always had a great admiration for his priests—but he hated the fanatics among them. "A sacrifice is pure." He had said. "No blood should be spilled except for that of the sacrifice. Any stupid mortal that thinks it wise to harm himself in my name will never have my attention—or if they do, they shall not live to regret it."

The men were nothing if not persistent. Still, I continued to watch them. They were primitive in their ways, and the obvious arrogance of the bald human annoyed me. Yet there was something amusing about the aspect of this contest.

 _Where did you go, Ba'al?_ I thought. He would thoroughly enjoy watching these mortals fail at their attempts.

"Shout louder!" The bald priest called to them. Several had died from blood loss, but still, the rest continued on in their diligence. "Surely Ba'al must be there for his people! Maybe he is just considering if your cries are worth his time. Or perhaps, your great god is shitting! If not, sleeping. Cry louder, attempt to wake him!"

 _Wherever my brother was, he was missing quite a boast in his name. If I was not so amused, I would have killed them for their arrogance. But one god does not kill the priests of another. There was little better a way to incite violence among pantheons._

One after another, Ba'al's priests gave up. Where was he at?

"Gather around me, priests of Ba'al!" the man called. He called for a few others to help him douse the bull in water. Four times, he filled up his gourds with water, and each time he poured the water out over the firewood.

 _Water is not how a fire is started, Baldy._ I thought. However, if this priest was one of mine—the last of a total of one—it could not hurt to entertain him.

"Answer me, Lord!" He yelled to the sky. "Answer me so that these people will know that you, Yahweh, are the god of this land and that you have returned their hearts to place!"

Say it again for the people in the back. _Ba'al has enough priests. I thought, Father just gave me a portion of Canaan, it seemed only fair that I take in a few hundred priests. He'll barely notice._

I set my hand over the altar and called fire down from the sky. Immediately, I willed the offering to combust into flame, consuming not only the bull, but the wood, stones, and even evaporating the rest of the water that had pooled below it.

 _I won this time, brother._ I thought.

"You blaspheming heretics!" the man called, the fires reflecting off of his shiny head. "Seize the priests of Ba'al! Slaughter them all!"

 _Well, shit. That escalated._

I rose back into the air again to where Ba'al had been giving me a tour before all of this.

My priest continued to order the deaths of the others as the area faded and returned to an empty state. No more altar. No more bald man. No more priests.

Suddenly, my brother was there, surveying the area as he had been. "—Mount Carmel. My priests come out here to sacrifice in the calm of the mountain, right down there in that clearing."

What in Father's name was happening? Was it all just a vision?

 _It had to have been. There was no way that Ba'al would have missed an opportunity to show off to sycophants like those._

 _Still,_ I thought. _As a god, I could alter the reality of even prophetic visions and make them come to pass in such a way._

I just hoped the humans did not accept the experience as honest defeat on Ba'al's part. As if that would ever happen. No, it was simply a vision—nothing more.

"Brother," I said, getting his attention again. "This is nice and everything, but would you mind if I am left alone for a moment? I need to think of my next plan for these people."

Ba'al scowled at me but shrugged his shoulders. "As you wish. You know where to find me when you return home."

Ba'al vanished then, leaving me alone in my new land and with my new people.

"Let us see your thoughts, humans of Samaria," I said to myself. "Let us make you a powerful nation in the eyes of the gods."


	4. I Shall Dwell in the House of the Lord

With a clasp of thunder, I brought myself back to the capital, Shalim. The high stone walls gave way on occasion to a mounted tower. Originally created as a defensive mechanism for the city's archers to fend off the advance of approaching hostile forces, they offered no practical use against the military of the Egyptians to the south.

Known for their own archers, Egypt brought up their soldiers to fire from their place on a chariot with no degree of fear. It was rumored among the gods that Maahes, the Lord of the Slaughter and the Egyptian god of military offense and warfare, had demanded a sacrifice of bravery from his mortal servants. In order to share in the spoils of victory, all those on his front lines must ride out to the enemy's walls and touch them—grazing their fingertips to the point of bleeding—before returning alive.

 _Arrogant bastard._

Still, as I looked around at the Samaritans, my new people, I could tell very plainly that they were not mortals suited to die on the field of battle. A brawl more like.

 _Well, brother,_ I thought. _If you have taught me anything, I can surely turn these people into the defensive front of Canaan._

I threw myself to the breeze and recounted the course that Ba'al and I had taken to get to Mount Carmel.

The farther that one traveled away from the walls of the main city stronghold, the larger the encompassing fields of vegetables and livestock were. While it was not much in comparison to other territories held by Canaan, it did well in its close location to the sea.

As I passed them, huddled in their camps, I peered into the minds of the humans. By their nature, mortal men feared what they did not know, and fervently defended that which they cherished. It was an admirable trait, though with their fear came also paranoia.

In their minds were trepidation of the uneasy balance between peace and death that defined the very settlements in which they lived.

Many constant centuries had been spent warring between my own people of Canaan and of the heathens in Egypt. Their empire had waned and waxed in that time, pushing and pulling like the tidal currents upon a beach to enslave the people of Samaria and then to abandon them.

As I passed their huts, I heard the memories echo within the minds of the elder men. They had been there on the forefront of the battlefield—serving tours of duty numbering a score. All the while, the kings of Samaria kept to their palace in Shalim, far from the heat and danger of battle.

 _Cowards._ I thought. _Peasants and priests were dying for the words and whims of coward kings._

These people were simple—farmers, shepherds, and gardeners living off the bounty of a land that was callous and difficult to farm. How did Father believe me to turn them into a defensive force, against the brunt of the Egyptian armies, nonetheless?

I cursed under my breath. I knew in my heart that the people of this land would be a taxing burden for me. Try as I might to wish them away, Father was right. _I can and I will._ As distasteful as it was, Samaria belonged to me, and as such would flourish or collapse under my watch.

Very well. I turned myself around to gaze upon Shalim sitting off into the distance. My capital.

Dissipating on the wind, I tore through the city streets unnoticed save but for on the breeze, until the gilded doors of the palace glimmered in the sun before me.

Invisible to all mortal eyes, I appeared in the court of the king of Samaria.

Immediately, I was met with a spear flying through my form. It seemed the king was in a foul mood. I was shocked to some degree. Had I been mortal, the king's weapon would have pinned me to his wall as if I were some hunting trophy or war criminal.

Around him, the court guards shifted on their feet uncomfortably, their eyes widening with fear.

"Damn all of the gods for this plight on my people!" the angry king bellowed in frustration.

 _Great. Another raging, blasphemous psychopath enthroned as a leader._

"Is it never enough that shit rains from the heavens upon my people and still they are silent?" He continued ranting, calling down the gods for our failures to help Shalim thrive. "Answer me, any god that might heed my prayers. Tell me the number of sacrifices that I need to placate you. Command me to settle my forces upon our enemies lest our anger grow such that we might clamber up your sacred mountains to do battle with the gods directly!"

Finally, I had heard enough blasphemy.

Thrusting myself into the visible spectrum, I made myself known to the king in the form of a smoldering column of ash.

"Tell me, little mortal." I bellowed as the thunder sounded around me, echoing through the king's halls, "How easily might you serve the gods—we who created and rule you—while your blood yet boils and your skin blankets our beds? Do not dare to imagine yourselves above us! We shall ladle you water only when we deem you fit to drink, and if, by El, we rain shit from the heavens upon you, then you shall thank us for the honor!"

Upon hearing my words, the king began to shake with intensity as fear for his life gripped him. Falling to his knees, His Majesty raised his hands in defeat. "Please, Lord," he stammered, "Do not think my people so bold as to blaspheme against you so commonly, or me the same! We seek only refuge from that which we fear most."

"No man begets refuge for his kin by insulting the master of the home which shelters him," I told him, my anger subsiding a small amount. Father had told me this many times whenever I began to carry on my disregard for foreign gods, thinking that they would never amass the power to enslave us.

I had never dreamed such until the day came when war turned for the worse. In my naivety, I had been captured.

I shook the memories away. _Focus on the king, not your own failings._

"Do you know who I am, mortal king?" I demanded.

Flinching, the king held his supplicant stance. "Nay, my Lord. By your might and storms, I would assume that you are Lord Ba'al. But I have since heard rumor among the priests in my court that the god has forfeited his claim to our land and people in favor of Yahweh, the warrior god."

I calmed my storm, quenching the fiery column down into a warming presence with the feeling of a mother's embrace. "Your priests were correct in this," I said. "I am Yahweh. By direct command of the Most High, I am sovereign over this land from now until eternity's end. In this, you shall revere me before any god."

The king rose to his feet. "Your will be done, Lord." He said sheepishly, "However, it is blasphemy in Canaan these long years past that we raise any of the Elohim in status above that of Elyon. The father of you gods has always been sacrosanct to us, even among his children that now patron the lands of the world."

"So be it," I replied. "Among the Elohim, you shall have no other gods before me. Elyon is a different matter in your praise. To ignore him would be to ignore the sun in the light of day."

The king sank down and kissed the floor. "Thank you, god of mercy," he exclaimed.

Rising to his feet, he stammered back to rest uneasily against his throne. "However, as our patron god, surely you might defend us in our woes."

 _It's a trap. Do not fall for his baiting._ I told myself.

But then, how merciful could I be seen as being if I left the mortals to their troubles? "Tell me," I said, my voice picking up a breeze between us, "What woes befall the Samaritan people when they lay as protected by the mainland as a babe in the womb of its mother?"

I caught the faint and fading twitch of a bemused smile, then, upon the king's face. "Only, my Lord, the animal bearing teeth to the mother's distended belly—Egypt."

My vision clouded at the mere uttering of that land. It seemed to me that Egypt had not only been a thorn in the side of the gods but of our people as well.

"Egypt steals your women? Egypt murders your men and raises your children as their own?" I inquired.

The king lowered his gaze to his feet. "They seek to conquer us for our fertile lands. When the Nile recedes, the Egyptians are at a loss for some time where farming land is concerned. Even the Red—"

"I will split the Red Sea!" I boomed. "Worry not, human king. Egypt shall cease to be the jackal that thieves away your wives and children come the night. They shall twice think before they usher forth their war gods to fray with me. By El Elyon, I, Yahweh, swear to all of Samaria that Egypt shall soon be crushed under the weight of their pyramids. On that night, I shall tear through the gilded streets of Thebes. Onto the head of the Pharaoh himself, I will topple the palace and temples, and against all of the gods of Egypt shall I execute judgment! The Elohim will war long with Egypt and the great god Ra will cower in his sun barge from the wrath of Yahweh!"

My fury mounting, I took myself from the mortal plane back up to Elyon's halls before I inadvertently killed the king and his court.

Right to where Father was waiting.

 _Fan-fucking-tastic._

"You seem upset, my son," Father said, an arch smile playing across his lips. "Could be the steam coming off of you, though."

Looking down at myself, I could see that he was right, as usual. Steam: the byproduct of water and heat, was usually the less lethal result of an angry storm god. Embarrassed, I tried to defend myself, but Father cut me off before I could force out a word.

"Then again, Yahweh, I am not called El Elyon without reason—especially when that moniker is made in the form of an oath."

 _Damn it._

Swallowing, I stammered about in my head searching for a reason behind my angry tirade. No doubt that Father had heard every word I had said the second I called upon him. "Father, I—"

He held up his palm to me in a manner of commanding my silence. "Care about your new humans. You needn't be ashamed of that, boy. The gods rise and fall by the worship and reverence of their mortals. It is only right that you would take so passionately to your responsibilities. Please, sit."

Father gestured to one of the thrones behind me. In times of court, it was seen as a sort of blasphemy amongst ourselves to sit on the throne of another god. In peace, however, it was just another place to sit. I immediately flashed myself to lazily form to Ba'al's throne.

"Have I ever told you of the time that your brother was given fealty over Canaan?"

Confused at his meaning, I pursed my lips together. "Nay, Father. If you are referring to this morning, though, I do believe that I was present."

Shaking his head, Father smiled.

 _You're in too good of a mood, old man,_ I thought. But I knew that my sarcasm in Father's presence would only hasten my unpleasantly forceful exit.

"Several millennia before, in fact." he said, "As my eldest child, Ba'al was given special privileges that I forwent the rest of you—he was, and is, as close to an 'heir' as a god may become. As a result, I saw it fit to have the humans of Canaan worship him foremost. God of fertility, god of storms and rain, god of war—all these aspects that mankind thrived by on Adamah. They quickly took to him, and he to them. Much like you, Yahweh, Ba'al was very eager to prove himself to his people in order to garner their trust and worship.

"In his efforts to appease their frequent droughts," Father continued, "Ba'al sent a storm to cool the air and to bring forth their vegetation. I say efforts in that he was not successful in a simple rainstorm. Instead, your brother created a tidal wave from the Mediterranean Sea that completely wiped out the entire western seaboard of Canaan. Thousands of people drowned."

Father's revelation made me sit up straight, my jaw slack. Surely, Father had to be jesting.

I stared at him, waiting for him to burst into hysterics. But there was nothing. Father only stroked the storm clouds that he wore as a beard, rippling lighting around his fingers. He was serious.

"You see the moral of your brother's misfortune, Yahweh?" he asked me.

My silence must have been taken as a resounding 'no'. Father continued.

"After the flood waters had subsided in his cleanup, Ba'al sought to apologize to the remaining humans in Canaan by simply forcing their crops to grow in such abundance that their populations were far outnumbered by the yields. There was now too much food and not enough humans. The resulting harvest caught the attentions of the Sumerians to the east. They very promptly invaded Canaan, taking advantage of the shattered population, and began to burn all of their grain storehouses and slaughter all of Canaan's inhabitants."

"Where was Ba'al in all of this?" I asked, interrupting Father's story. "He's renown for his bloodlust, surely he would not have left his humans to the Sumerians' devices."

Father shook his head in agreement, "I am surprised that you do not recall. You were with him that day, after all."

I searched through my memories, trying my best to recall an invasion by the Sumerians after a flood. "I remember Ba'al telling me that the Sumerians would burn for what they did to him, but he never elaborated when I questioned him on it."

"Your brother was subtly wanting you to accompany him to battle with the Sumerian gods. He wanted blood. Ba'al recruited Anat, Mot, Shahar, and Shalim to his cause. He took his armies to Sumer and plunged their entire civilization into Chaos. Your sister, Anat created panic on such a scale that the mortals' hearts exploded from their chests. Mot, as the god of death, tore through Ur and Eridu up through Nippur and Kish. The humans thought it a plague from their own gods. Mortals died on such a scale that the Tigris and Euphrates rivers were obstructed from the piles of them left to rot. In an effort to amplify Ba'al's onslaught, he ordered the twins to halt the sun in the sky to prolong the daylight."

 _Shit, Ba'al,_ I thought, _that's a little much. You shouldn't have waged such a war over your own faults, brother. We would have made more humans._

"In response to my children's actions," Father continued, "the Sumerian gods requested I go to their realm of Anunnaki to discuss reigning them in. I obliged, only on the condition that they send one of their own here as a trade agreement."

As much as I loved holding past actions against others, Father's story was going nowhere in terms of a moral lesson. "I fail to see how—"

Father held up his hand again. "You will. Patience, child."

Sighing, I listened on as he finished.

"You see, the Sumerians sent Sin here as a peace offering and temporary exchange."

Their moon god? Strange, a god of such power, and I had completely failed to sense his presence here.

"Sin is the god of the calendar year, Yahweh," Father said, more than likely reading my thoughts. "I requested that he override Shahar and Shalim's power by reversing the flow of time back to the point that Sumer began to invade Canaan. Being a more powerful god than the lot of them combined, Sin agreed, and war had been averted before it began.

 _So you conspired with the Anunnaki to undo Ba'al's screw up?_ I thought, my mind beginning to trail off.

Father cut me off with a menacing glare, his eyes burning bright as the sun. "Not quite."

 _Shit._ I always had to watch my thoughts around Father.

"The moral of the story that I'm recalling to you, Yahweh, is that eagerness is not a negative aspect of the gods. However, thoughtlessness is. It is in that that Ba'al failed Canaan with his flood and with the crops. Setting his sights too high, even for himself. His eagerness to appease and make amends to the mortals fueled his desire for bloodlust against the Sumerians which would have ultimately been a costly endeavor to us and to himself. Had rationality and patience won out, divine politics would not have been needed as an intervention. However, my son, the game that the gods love to play is chess—the mortals as our pawns and the territories we rule as the kings. We mustn't let them fall because we are too blinded by playing the game too many steps ahead of ourselves. You, Yahweh, are about to make your first move against the Egyptians and their gods. I would suggest you take your time with it, and move your pawns accordingly, even if it means bringing one of their pieces into your own playing field first."

 _Gods, I hated Father's analogies almost as much as I hated chess. Still, I understood his point._

I stood up from Ba'al's throne. "Very well, Father. I believe I know how I should set this game in my favor before it begins."

Father stood as well and flashed himself to stand in front of me. "Do so as the god I know you to be, my son."

With that, Father vanished in a flash of brilliant light.

 _I know what I have to do now._

Bringing myself back to Shalim's palace, I cast my form again into a burning column of fire before the king, who rose immediately from his throne as a pool began to form at his feet.

 _The gods were never fond of knocking._

"My—my Lord, Yahweh." He stammered, throwing himself to his knees and offering his hands in the air as a supplicant. "Do you come in response to our ailments with Egypt?"

"In time," I told him. "However, first I must gather you and all of Samaria together as one people. You, their king and general, and I, their god. Only then might we fend off the jackal that stalks you and shoot down the falcon that hovers above."

"What must be done to make it so?"

"Be my people, and I will be your god." _Simple in theory..._

The king bowed his head. "Your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."

He called for his guards and priests to hymn while they also prostrated themselves before me.

"Yahweh, our shepherd; we shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures and leads me beside still waters. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for you are with me. Surely, mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord, forever."


	5. Provocation

"My city keeps you warm in her bosom, doesn't it, brother?"

Invisible to the mass of parading mortals below, I ignored Shalim's sarcasm as he swirled his form around me, watching me as does a hunting falcon.

One-half of the twin gods of dawn and dusk, Shalim encompassed the darker part of the human day. Like Ba'al, myself, or any of the other gods, Shalim had no true physical form. Instead, he chose to embrace a vague silhouette that caught his movements in the mid-day sun. Lengthy curls of thick hair weaved down past his shoulders and fell down to frame his face. Its color changed in reflection to the time of day—from blonde come mid-day, to red as the sun shone low over the horizon, and finally to as black as the night sky in the twilight hours.

As many of the gods and the even far greater number of the humans, Shalim's skin burned in a deep tan. Yet, because of his lack of battlefield prowess, he very noticeably lacked any scarring or mars across it. As such, he and his twin brother, Shahar, were celebrated as the most beautiful of the gods; something my brothers had used over the centuries to their benefit. But what details stood out most about the god were the mercurial silver-colored eyes and the two chasms of tear-troughs that ran from his eyes down to the border of his jaw. Also set with silver, it had always appeared to me as if he were crying, but I knew better.

Shalim tsked, setting his gaze upon the enormous, ziggurat-shaped pyre that the humans were setting light to below us.

It had been little over a month since I had been given control of Samaria, and with the king's decree, I had become the undisputed patron of my brother's former city. Rams and bulls had been sacrificed in my name for the last three days, filling the air with the sweet smell of their offering.

 _Apparently, brother,_ I thought, _you believe the smell to be a dinner invitation._

Shalim had for the past forty days come to me in the very instant I materialized myself within the city, demanding of its well-being. My annoyance with him had grown such that unceasing storm clouds had canopied themselves across the valley, blocking out his setting sun. One way or another, Shalim would get the hint.

I could feel his eyes boring into me as I listened to the priests call out for my appeasement. Still, I disregarded his presence, which seemed to only hasten his irritability. Shalim let out a small bolt of lightning from his fingertips—just enough to force my attentions to him.

"What do you want, brother?" I snapped at him, "The matter has been settled, but by the gods should it relieve me of your feminine moods, I will attend to your whims."

Shalim let out a shrill, sarcastic whistle. "Careful, Yahweh," he said, crossing his arms behind his head as he continued to circle me, "Best hope the balls you've found find their way back to their _proper_ owner before they're missed."

Sighing, my agitation rippled through the clouds, sending thunder off toward the sea. His subtle jabs toward me where this city was concerned were childish at best.

 _Remember, as therapeutic as skinning him would be, you still love him._ I reminded myself. _That and Shahar would never stop bitching if I did._

Smiling inwardly, I taunted my brother with a god bolt of my own. "And you had best hope, Shalim, that I do not cast yours into the flames."

Shalim only grinned wide at that. "There are generations of queens in this city who would weep at the thought." He said, winking at me.

Rolling my eyes at yet another bragging of my siblings' conquests, I began to dissipate back home. Shalim's eyes glowed brightly as he blocked my powers.

 _I do not have time for this, you horse's ass!_

"Flee if you will, dear baby brother. But in doing so, I do beg you in all seriousness to turn your back to me and your precious new toy only if you wish to see it broken."

Pulling myself away from his grasp, I scowled at the threat. As light-hearted as the twin gods were known to be, their moods were mercurial and subject to as vast a change as dawn and dusk. There was no real point in testing how far he would go.

Shalim caught his breath in agitation. "You, in your great annoyance to my presence recently, only goes to prove the rumors among the gods true. Tell me, Yahweh, are you running back to hide under Ba'al's skirts again? It truly does surprise me sometimes, little brother, how you can smell anything but shit with as far up our brother's ass as you are.

"I am very well aware, Yahweh, of the unmitigated rage that flares in your eyes every time I step into your territory. What is the matter, afraid of a little competition? Prove to me that you are your own god that you boast so often to be! Prove to all of us that you are not a coward! Take this city—the city that bears my name—and turn it into the crown jewel of Canaan! Empty our rivers if it so suits you, and replace them with milk and honey to draw in your sycophants like flies. By El, war god, cast down your spear on those Egyptian animals that ride us like whores to the south. Treat the gods of Canaan to a feast of falcon, jackal, or what must be half a dozen lions. Lead us, in conquest and in glory to sing of for eternity, or else give back the reigns to one of us who can."

I was about to say something in response, but Shalim was on a roll.

"Past midday, it is my duty to guide the sun back down into the waters of the Chaos Sea, and during such time, my eyes see all. I see you, brother, hiding in your burning columns, unseen by the mortals who have been told of your wondrous deeds. But I know better. You can lie to them, but you cannot lie to me. For thousands of years, I have seen my youngest brother shadowing my eldest, never once doing for himself a single glory in his own name. You were gifted Samaria by Father, and yet, you have never stopped to even look close enough at it to see that all the painted red that marks these stones is nothing more than Canaanite blood, painted there with Nile reeds!"

By this time, Shalim was all but shouting at me, silver tears streaming down his face as his emotions overwhelmed him. Something was amiss—I was not the source of my brother's tirades. Other thoughts plagued him. But what?

Shalim stopped his ranting as his eyes moved back toward the fire burning below. Or rather, _fires_. In his fury, the god of dusk had set the sun low—so low, in fact, that the fields beyond the city walls were burning with his ire. The massive flame burned in my honor had risen a hundred cubits into the air. The cloth canopies that shaded the humans' houses had caught alight, and the straw that made their roofs had followed suit. Even the bronze statues of the gods that had littered the street corners and market squares had begun to melt under Shalim's imposing heat.

 _For being the god of the setting sun, Shalim, you really are not bright._

Shalim snapped his fingers and extinguished the fires, using his powers to restore the unintentional damage. A kind gesture to my people, but still, I knew why he really did it.

"Brother," I called to him. My rage was mounting from his attack, causing more thunder to ripple across the skies and tendrils of lightning to arc from the clouds. "You would do well to remember your place, not only within our family but within the minds of the mortals as well. If I recall correctly, there has been no statue erected in your honor where you stand alone. Nay, you are ever entwined with your twin—Shahar the dawn, you the dusk. He the first, and you… well, Shalim, you're the afterthought. Well done, god who sees all," I sarcastically clapped my hands together, goading him on as best I could, "and yet you fail to see that you preside over the domain of which is so boring to the humans that it calls them to sleep."

Shalim's eyes snapped fire as my taunts eroded away the clarity of his thoughts. "You're so immature, Yahweh," he scoffed. "And while I may stand with Shahar in the minds of the mortals, at least they see fit to recognize me on their own initiative. You, on the other hand? They know next to nothing of you. Even the people of Samaria, whom you now lay claim to, think their great god is unknowable. 'Who is Yahweh?' They ask. 'Is that an epithet of Ba'al?' I for one am inclined to believe them. Who are you, really? God of war, god of storms and righteous anger? Those are larger spheres of influence, possessed by larger gods. You are _nothing_ , Yahweh. And unless you begin to act in your own accord and on your own initiative, nothing is all you will ever remain."

 _How dare he! Arrogant bastard!_

Furious, I manifested storm clouds in my palms, and shot lightning at my brother. "Go to Sheol, Shalim! You will see, soon enough, the god I am truly capable of becoming. You all will."

Smirking, Shalim visibly stifled a laugh. His hair turning from the blonde shade of wheat to that of copper, he turned his attentions toward the sun. As his form dissolved, Shalim pointed upward. "If that is ever truly the case, little brother, you know where to find me. I will be watching."

Taking his leave then, Shalim left me alone with a fire that was had lost all sense of warmth or invitation.

I yelled out my anger to the sky then, tremendous thunder claps shaking the ground all around the city. In the distance, lightning prodded the ground like a wall of spears striking their enemy.

 _Watching_ , I thought. _You pathetic coward!_ "If you want your city back so badly, brother," I shouted out toward the sun, "By all means, trade me places. I will gladly take the reins of the sun and burn them all alive!"

In response, Shalim's sun turned a deep red, sweltering the landscape with more heat.

I twisted my hands into an obscene gesture toward him. There's nothing he would do, especially not if it meant circumventing Father and risking his wrath.

The humans of the city had since abandoned their festivals and retreated back to the safety of their homes. The altar fires still retained their sweet aromas of the animal offerings, but even that was not enough to quell my moods.

No. I wanted blood.

Retreating back home lest I destroy even more of my city, I teleported myself to the front steps of Ba'al's temple.

 _Screw what Shalim and the other gods think. I'm a war god, and I shall solve my problems as a war god._

I looked up at the splendor of Ba'al's temple. Enormous, even by divine standards, the walls around his central palace dwarfed any of the gods. Made of pure white stone etched in gold, the palace grounds were double their width in length.

 _Look at you, pathetic._ I winced as I heard the mocking scorn of the other gods inside my head. Memories I had long since buried. _What kind of god has no temple?_ Why had these thoughts resurfaced now? _Really, baby brother. Have you ever even had a worshipper?_

Summoning my godly power, I pushed the front gates of the grounds open. Inside, a large courtyard stood open. Square in shape, the courtyard housed four chambers, one in each corner. Though they usually stood empty, if Ba'al was in good spirits, he was known to keep dozens of slave women here for his own pleasure. Mortal humans or minor gods of either gender, so long as they could please him, the difference didn't matter much to my brother.

 _They both have their quirks and advantages._ He would say, winking at me.

Every time I had found myself in Ba'al's home, he was always quick to offer me my choice of the harem. Quickly declining, I had no intentions of debasing myself with the cast-offs of a fertility god.

Rolling my eyes at the thought, I continued through the yard until I came to the large flight of steps that bisected the grounds, leading up the far end of the plaza courtyard to another pair of gilded doors. Swinging them open as well, I flew up the steps.

Meeting me in anger were seventy long cavalry spears, dropped down just so as to pose a threat to a mortal. Surrounding his personal temple, my brother had kept a small guard of Canaanite generals and champions in place under his command. I was never entirely sure why; they were laughable to the gods' powers, and under no circumstance would Ba'al spear one of his whores.

At least not with an actual spear.

Still, while their devotion to their god was admirable, making a target of me was a mistake. Conjuring myself into a funnel cloud, I stirred my winds inward to suck their weapons into my vortex. With a barrage of power, I reversed their direction and sent their spears back to them, pinning every guard through their hearts.

 _Ba'al is going to be pissed._

But I didn't care.

Letting the storm subside, I continued past the mangled corpses I had created.

In front of the temple doors, I stood before a massive altar to my right. Completely empty save for the light-red stains of blood from past sacrifices, the slab was made of pure gold and was comparable in size to a human house. In intricate detail covering the entire surface, Ba'al had honored himself with reliefs of his deeds—wars against the enemies of Canaan, worshipers coming to bow before him by the dozens, and the flaunting fields of a successful harvest.

To my left was a large basin of water. Large and golden, it shimmered with precious gems and silver. On its base, the basin was supported by a dozen golden oxen, with three upholding it on each side. No doubt Ba'al regarded it as little more than a bathing chamber.

Looking up at his temple, I almost had to shield my eyes from the ornate glare off of the polished stone. Also rectangular the building sheened beyond the entryway, which was recessed into a vestibule. Two more massive golden doors set themselves between a pair of gilded columns in the shape of palm trees.

My vision blurring from my rage, I pushed open the main temple doors with a harsh gust of raw power, slamming them back against the inside walls with an echoing clamber.

Inside Ba'al's temple, the walls were all constructed of solid gold, with more images of Canaanite conquests and warfare carved into their surfaces. Near the ceiling, detailed clerestory windows allowed in more light to flood the area in a bright aura.

Along the ceiling itself, five wooden beams spanned the width of the temple. Between each, a panorama depicting one of the six days of Father's creation served as the firmament for Ba'al's world.

The black marble foyer reflected the light, catching my reflection. My anger had caused lightning to flash through and around my form. Yet there was no one else in the room to see.

On the far end of the temple, a large private chamber was cut off from view with a thick purple curtain.

Ba'al's private chambers. On the other side of the curtain, the sounds of grinding sex could be heard and felt in their thudding echoes off of the walls.

 _Leave it to my brother to be so engrossed in fucking as to not check who it was that had intruded in his palace._

"Ba'al!" I called out. "Get out here!"

Still, the noises and delighted screaming and laughter continued.

Irritated, I growled out loud. Assuming my true form, I allowed the winds and lightning that swept from around me to clamber around the room.

Dying down, I felt a shift of power that told me I had succeeded in catching his attention. Moving the veil aside, Ba'al presented himself in all his glory, wearing nothing but the dark red sheets of his bed wrapped around his waist. The look on his face told me he was less than amused.

Before I could open my mouth to say anything, Ba'al held up his hand. "Before you speak, Yahweh," he mumbled, "pray by Father that what you disrupt my entertainment for is worth the risk of being cast into the Sea."

"Brother, I—"

"Ba'al, my _Ride on the Clouds_ ," The playful moaning of a woman rang from the bed, "Come back to bed."

A woman appeared from behind the curtain, wearing the same sheet that cloaked Ba'al. A beautiful human, her dark hair fell in waves around her caramel-colored skin. Dark, piercing eyes touched with a rough playfulness looked up at Ba'al, and then lower, down to the bulge at his waist. Grins broke out on both of their faces as my brother purred affectionately at the woman.

"Yahweh," Ba'al motioned to me sheepishly, "I would like to introduce you to Rebekah, the—"

"The Queen of Jericho." I finished, emotionless and, somehow, unsurprised. One of the largest and most powerful city-states in Canaan, all of the gods knew well that royal family. It was apparent, however, that her husband did not know well the gods.

 _Please, Ba'al._ I thought, _do try to avoid siring any more demigod prince bastards._ They had become quite a problem among other pantheons, namely Greece. Yet, my brother seemed proud of his mortal children. One of his sons had become the first king of Tyre after founding the city centuries ago.

"Brother." I said between gritted teeth, "We have matters that need discussing. Immediately."

War with Egypt was on the horizon. Again. But this time, it was my war.

Just then, the sheets that cloaked Ba'al and the queen rustled. Reaching around Ba'al's thigh, an arm snaked its way up his leg to rest its hand precariously at the apex.

"Oh, you little minx." Ba'al chastised. "I had almost forgotten about you."

The woman behind Ba'al threw her head around to nip at the god's thigh, laughing.

 _No!_ A cold chill ran through my body as recognition took hold. With hair as black as the night sky, ringlets of turquoise and gold laced through the braids. This one's skin was tanned darker than the Jerichoian queen, but the features that made her stand out the most were her deep, sea-green eyes and the vibrant kohl that surrounded them. Her perfect naked body fully exposed to me, I could see clearly the outline of an ankh tattoo between her breasts.

Stepping back in shock, my voice caught. "Please, brother. Please, tell me that you aren't sleeping with _that one_ as well."

Spilling as much venom into my voice as possible, I wanted her to know well who I was and to what extend her race chaffed me. The fearful dilation of her pupils told me as much.

Ba'al rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Well, brother. Let us see: I do not often have many other uses for a naked human woman, much less one writing her name on my inner thighs with her tongue. So yes, you can safely assume that I am, in fact, bedding her."

Clearly. Bedding the wife of the Egyptian Pharaoh, at that.

 _Shit!_

Placing his large hand on her head as one would an obedient dog, Ba'al smiled evilly. "By the way, Yahweh. I am many steps—and thrusts—ahead of your matters for discussion."

I turned to glare at the women, my eyes glowing with heated emotion. "Out. Now!"

Ba'al tsked them away. After they had left through the chambers on the side of the temple, my brother teleported himself to stand before me. Thankfully, he had dawned his armor as well.

"Ba'al?" I asked, softly, before thundering into an angry roar. "Are you out of your fucking mind?"

The god of fertility and war shrugged nonchalantly. "You wanted war, did you not? What better way to accomplish your dream than to place a bastard son of Ba'al on the Egyptian throne?"

 _There are a thousand better ways, you idiot!_

Irritated, I rubbed my temples, attempting to wash away the pain of my brother's stupidity.

"It is no secret, little brother," Ba'al chided, "that you are as ignorant as a babe in the... ah, carnal arts of war strategy. Still, even you are aware of why kings and generals have patroned whores and prostitutes since humanity's creation. Information is thick on the lips of those so close to the enemy, and is easier loosed during orgasm than during torture."

"Send her back, brother. Now." I said in a low whisper. "While I do wish for war with Horus and his pantheon, I will not allow you to justify their slaughter of our people with some whore queen you plucked out of their Pharaoh's bed."

Ba'al scowled. "Bah! You can be such a cock-kill. You know that, right? She is not the first queen to find her way to my chambers. In fact, I quite remember another, not but a score ago."

I slapped my face. "Do not tell me that this whore queen may be your daughter."

Ba'al shrugged, as if the thought of incest did not phase him in the slightest. "She certainly fucks like my daughter would. But it matters not. Tell me, Yahweh, in your infinite wisdom, what shall we do with her when she can no longer hide her pregnancy?"

"Do I look like the god of midwives to you? How should I know? Make her drink a potion mixed with dirt from the temple floors for all I care."

Ba'al was silent for several minutes before he moved again. "You know I will gladly war with you, Yahweh. Against Egypt, most happily. However, two cannot stand against an entire pantheon alone, even as gods. If you are truly committed to helping your people—our Canaanite people—then we must convene another court session with Father and the others. With their backing, we may easily bury them under their vast deserts where they belong!"

Saluting in respect to my elder brother, I left his temple grounds. Coming to the square between our temples, I saw another brother standing at the intersection.

Shahar.

 _Great. Shalim must have complained about our most recent encounter._

Knowing that there was no real place that I could go where Shahar couldn't follow, I decided to simply get this over with.

Teleporting myself to stand in front of him, I was met with a dour, intense glare.

As opposed to his twin's silver eyes and accents, Shahar bore gold in their place. That aside, the two were identical to one another in every way.

Shalim must have been near the end of his trek, as Shahar's hair had turned the violently dark shade of a raven's wing. Because of their attributes, our pantheon jokingly referred to the twins as the divine sundials.

"Shahar," I said, nodding low. "Is there something you wish to discuss with me?"

 _As if I didn't already know that I was going to get my ass chewed out._

Electricity riddled through Shahar's body in tendrils, filling the air between us with the smell of ozone. I readied myself for my brother to attack me, but instead, Shahar broke out into a wide grin, laughing.

Knitting my brows together in confusion, I stared at him in relieved shock. "Should your laughter be cause for concern? It was not but several hours ago that your twin had wanted my skin as a cloak."

Shahar patted me on the shoulder reassuringly. "And that, little brother, is no concern of mine. Regardless of what the mortals think of us, Shalim and I are not of one mind. If anything, we are quite dualistic. If he is angry and jealous with you for Father gifting you his city, so be it. He can be much like a woman, brooding eternally over such trivial things. That is not how a true god goes about their life. If Shalim wishes to get even with you, then he is going to have to go about building himself a new city to exceed the old one. But for me? Yahweh, I couldn't care less that you've made yourself welcome in Samaria. They've taken to you quickly, I'll concede to that much."

That was exactly what hung in my thoughts since Father's proclamation.

"Why, Shahar?" I asked him.

He ceased his laughter at my question. "Surely you know why my brother covets his city and people as much as he does."

 _Because selfish jealousy was in our nature?_

Shahar waved his hand between us, producing a pair of thrones. Identical to the ones in the council room, they were instead made of solid gold. Taking a seat, Shahar motioned I do the same as he produced a kylix of wine.

"Those Greeks whoresons may be a mob of incestuous, violent apes," Shahar said delightfully as he took a deep drink from the jar, "But may Father bless Dionysus for inventing wine. It truly makes for a much easier-dealt eternity."

Shahar offered me a kylix of my own, which I gratefully accepted. "I wanted to clarify what our brother refused to." He told me.

"I know you seek to go to war with Egypt, Yahweh. Believe you me, there is not a single god among us who would not sell their own soul to destroy those feral beasts. But you must realize how pantheon politics play out." He took another drink of wine before refilling the container and setting it back down beside him. "As you well know, Samaria is the border region between mainland Canaan and Egypt, and as such, the mortals of your territory deal and trade greatly with both. While we war, Canaan suffers because of it, and your people especially. As Father says, you cannot cut the hands from a slave and then beat him for not tilling his share. Samaria, and by extension, Canaan, rely greatly on the Egyptians for resources that are simply not abundant here. Wood, papyrus, inks and dyes, precious stones and gold. On the other hand, Egypt relies on us for the quarries that we sell them so that their precious pyramids may be built. They may not be much to us, but as tombs for their royalty, Egypt pays a hefty purse for each block."

"So, what?" I said, not wanting to sit through yet another lecture. I would see myself drunk from the wine before it came to a close. "I am sure that Sumer would be willing to trade in supplies with us while we wage war with Egypt. Or if not them, we could seek out Mount Olympus and the Greeks for aid. Neither of them are fond of Egypt, and both would surely be willing to back our mortal trade routes when Egypt cuts ties. Furthermore, since we do sell them such precious limestone for their kings' burial chambers, leaving them dry in that regard would cause them to scramble to other neighbors in order to complete their projects. We have the upper hand in this war."

Shahar waved his finger in front of me as if he were scolding a small child. "Not so. Remember, how the gods go to war is a game of chess, but with many more pieces. Tell me, god of the armies, how many soldiers does Canaan and Samaria have to call upon?"

A little over twenty-thousand, if taken from the whole of Canaan. But then, in doing so would leave the eastern and northern borders wide open.

Egypt, on the other hand, could call upon more than double that to go to war.

"So you're advising me to end my war efforts for a lack of men?" I demanded.

"End? No. Merely postpone. The point is this," Shahar said, running his hands through the length of his hair. "I look down upon the earth every day. I see Canaan, and Egypt both. Now, when I look down into the deserts to the south and west, do you know what it is I see that is noticeably lacking here at home?"

 _Hordes of slaves and mummified cats?_

Chariots, brother." Shalim answered, knowing my silence meant sarcasm. "Egypt has chariots. Two horses and three men at arms to each. What do we have? Feeble, war-weary old men on foot wearing sun-cracked leather with nothing to block the onslaught but wicker shields?"

"Your optimism brightens my day, brother," I told him.

Shahar laughed, "As is my station. However, brother, I did not meet you to discuss your own field of expertise. I leave war to the war gods. What I did want to do is help you understand why Shalim becomes so angry where your occupation of Samaria is concerned."

 _Finally, getting to the point. If not slightly intoxicated._

"You see, Samaria and the Sinai peninsula both belong to my brother and me by right of conquest. Or at least, they did. Long ago, Shalim and I had angered the Egyptian sun god, Ra. While nothing became of it, the Egyptian's wrath did bruise our egos. As you are well aware, the territories that you own now have waxed and waned as belonging to either Egypt or to Canaan. At the time, Egypt held the land and all of its people. Forgive me for the blasphemy, Yahweh, but the land has never been worth much. It is arid and dry, and not very well-suited for farming land or much for raising livestock. However, it was a perfect strategic hold for our people. If we owned it once more, and permanently, then Egypt would be pushed back to the west of the Red Sea. We would always know of their actions should they cross that point." Another kylix of wine was emptied as Shalim paused.

"Brother Ba'al suggested that Shalim and I take the lands as our own. In seeking to do so, we challenged the great god Ra to a contest for the land and for the honor due as victor. The old bird went for it. And so, it was a contest between sun gods. The bet: which pantheon could pull the sun backward across the sky for the most days in a row without their mortals taking notice."

That was a stupid bet. Everyone knew that Ra out powered almost the entirety of our pantheon alone.

Shahar held up his finger, as to tell me to have patience. "I know what you are thinking, and in most cases, you would be right. However, neither my brother nor I are as slow-witted as we are taken for. We both knew well that this was a case, not of which god was craftier, but which had the more observant mortals."

"Obviously, that would be Egypt," I said, cutting into Shahar's tale.

"Exactly," he agreed. "Which is why we worded our bet the way that we did. Even in his high sun barge, our cunning went over Ra's head. It took until the second day for the Egyptians and their astrologers to take notice that something was off. Gods bless the people of Canaan, but they are not the most intelligent of humans. It was not until half a month had passed that they began to take notice. Ra was furious at our deceit, but yet he had agreed to our terms."

 _And a promise made by one god to another was binding on that god's very existence. To go back on his word would have been Ra's death._

"With that, the Egyptian gods had forfeited their claims to the lands that you now reside over. They were pushed back to the Red Sea. In his anger, however, Ra scorched the Sinai lands, creating nothing but a barren wilderness.

"These lands are yours now, brother," Shahar told me, standing from the throne, which vanished along with the half-dozen empty wine kylixes. "But be warned, the Egyptians know the land between better than we ever will. And with their chariots, can storm through the desert much faster than we could to meet them."

I balled my fists. Damn it! No doubt those animals knew well of my intentions.

I stood up to meet my brother's golden eyes. "I am wise enough to not rush into battle unprepared. But mark my words, we will war with Egypt, and they will no longer threaten our doorstep."

"Shall we make it official, then?"

"A war council?" I asked hopefully. "Would you and Ba'al stand by me to prepare one?"

Under normal circumstances, a war council must be issued by a prosecutor within the offensive pantheon. Oftentimes, however, gods would wage war alone. Apollo and Ares in Greece were infamous for the almost random wars that they have started, and for little more cause than boredom. Of course, Canaan was not immune to the violent whims of its gods. Ba'al, Anat, and even I have waged war alone before, though usually for more noble causes.

Shahar nodded in acceptance. "I am sure that you may yet sway Shalim to your cause if you speak the right honeyed words. He is a god after all, and even we are not immune to our egos."

With that, I sent out a burst of raw power throughout all of the temples and realms of heaven, alerting every child of El to meet in the council chambers. Immediately, I could feel shifts of power moving throughout the area—the other gods were assembling.

 _Good_ , I thought. _Soon we would be at war._


	6. And So They Fought

Anticipation and a deep craving for violence coursed through me as I gathered myself into the main chambers of the assembly hall.

Before me, shimmers of power manifested themselves into the forms of the other gods. Shooting around the room as if comets in the night sky, each burned with the intensity of a thousand suns.

As I was the one to call the assembly to begin with, I placed myself onto the foyer before Father's throne. Nervously, I shifted back and forth as I waited for the others to come into place.

Suddenly, a shrill of power coursed from behind me, momentarily dwarfing all else in the room combined.

 _Father._

Turning on my heels, I turned to face him. Father's face was lack for concern, but his eyes gave away the all-knowing god's position.

 _Is this pride, Father?_ I thought. _Surely you of any here know why I summoned you._

Nodding his head in confirmation, Elyon said nothing as his gaze focused uncomfortably on me. _The first time is always the most difficult, child._ He called to me within my mind. _But know this: your cause is nothing if not noble. Gather that great pride of yours and contend to your siblings and their own desires. Bind yourselves together in your ambitions._

I bowed my head to my father as I turned around once more to find a full council.

Directly before me, on the lowest of the bough of thrones, Ba'al grinned eagerly. He already knew well the call for war. Beside him sat the next eldest of the Elohim, Mot.

The god of death, decay, and the afterlife, Mot was heavily avoided in both ritual and worship by the mortals of Canaan. Even then, there was no escape from his far-seeing eyes. As the lord of the land of the dead, Sheol, Mot would eventually rule over all humankind come their deaths.

With eyes glimmering as a piece of obsidian, his glare was unnerving even to the deathless gods. A perfect bronze color flourished his face, casting a truth to the mortal tales of his theft of their life-force. As per human fears, mortal men pale and rot upon their deaths as Mot steals their vigor for himself. Lining his jaw, the god of death bore a well-kept, two-toned beard. Upon the left side, the stark white growth of an old man, and on the other, the youthful and full dark color of a man in his prime. My brother enjoyed wearing it so, explaining that no mortal, young or old, was immune from him. His entire left side was wrapped in fresh burial linen, not unlike the mummification process used by the Egyptians. Pressed into the fabric were several charms and spells used to protect the newly dead in their next life. Upon his right side, Mot wore the clothing of the highest royalty. The magenta dye of Canaanite kings bled over from his burial linens to capture a thick woolen shawl. Every bit as gaudy on his right side, Mot had dressed his clothing with gold and silver, no doubt offerings—bribes to stave off the black nothingness of death—to him from the humans.

A thick aura of misery, sorrow, and unmatched power stemmed from Mot, and although the gods did not fear death, we did make a point not to piss him off.

To the right of the god of death, the god of the seas swam in his seat. Yam was both a volatile and amorous being, causing himself great enjoyment out of the duality of his station. Much like the Olympian sea god, Poseidon, Yam was both worshipped and feared by the mortals, who built every port and lighthouse as a temple in his name.

Contrary to what the mortals thought, Yam, while one of the Elohim, was so by title only. He was not, in a literal sense as the rest of us, a biological child of El Elyon. In the beginning, when Elyon began to create the heavens and the earth, there was nothing in creation save for the unformed earth swallowed up by the endless waters of the Chaos Sea. With his might and unsurpassed power, Father divided the two, splitting the waters of chaos around the earth—as above, so below—and had a firmament put in place to hold back the waves from destroying his creation. From the conversion of the waters, Yam emerged, formed as the very embodiment of the hostile Sea.

More of a sworn brother than a son, Yam and Father's relationship was complex. No one, save for perhaps the pair of them, knew exactly which side of chaos Yam was really on. His affiliation with Ba'al was rocky at best. Most days, they hated one another to the point of physical blows. While this was only natural among us, Father was obviously concerned with the sea god's power flooding the waters back over the earth and destroying all life. As a result, despite their order among the Elohim, Father saw it best to separate the two, setting Mot—death—as a dividing wall between them.

I sighed, barely hiding a smirk, thinking of the many times that my brother and Yam had fought one another. More often than not, it was simply pettiness.

 _The rains, Ba'al Hadad, come from the waters above the firmament. They are therefore my domain, and you will not conform them to your fertility prowess. I will let the mortals die in drought before I allow you, a syphon of a god, to steal from my glory._

Still, without the three of them and Father's backing, our war with Egypt would be a lost cause. I knew that much. I just hoped my brother could learn to keep his mouth shut for all of our sakes.

My attentions were cut off as Father sent a tremor through the room, calling the assembly to order. Immediately, all eyes were cast on me as I stood at Father's right hand.

"My sons!" he called across the room. "Attend to me, all of the Elohim who have heart to hear the horns of war call unto our very halls! By discretion and authority of the Commander of the armies of Heaven, my youngest son, Yahweh, has seen fit to drive back the gods of Egypt into their own lands unto eternity, or else destroy them off the earth by means of the annihilation of their people."

Waves of thunderous applause deafened me as the other gods cheered. In the front row, Ba'al stood and clapped with a lusting eagerness for slaughter. Beside him, Mot only glared at me, emotionless as usual—no doubt calculating the toll of the dead he would take with him into Sheol. In the end, he showed neither approval nor discontent.

 _Do not be so sully, brother._ I thought. _Surely even you must loath the Egyptian gods to some extent._

The god of death's expression was nonetheless, neutral.

Clearing my throat, the ovation died down into silence.

 _Strange how that is so much more noticeable from Father's perspective._

"Who, then, brothers, will back me in my campaign?" I called, being sure to give dramatic pause. "Who, then, will see the head of the god Ra speared to the very gates of Heaven? Who, then, will help to cease the slaughter and abduction of our children come the night? I say to you, the Elohim, by what measure of the gods do we stand by and allow for the tidal wave of Egyptian army after army sweep through our cities and plains, putting to the sword our own people—children of many present here—with impunity! For eons, the gods of Egypt have warred with us, their nearest neighbors, over land and over human, both. And while the other pantheons may idly watch, are we too afraid to contend with them or will we continue to simply watch as well? To watch our cities be razed and replaced with pyramids and temples dedicated to Maahes and Sekhmet, gods of the slaughter and brutal victory! I cannot, nor will not, contend to war alone. I ask you again, Elohim . . . who, then?"

Muttering whispers of the other gods encapsulated the room, sounding much to my ears as a parade of bats fleeing a cave. Finally, as the potential for unrest and denial flooded over me, every son of El Elyon stood from their thrones in agreement.

All save for three. Shalim, Mot and Yam remained.

 _Please, not in this!_

"You remain?" I asked them. "In this cause, surely you must drink of the sweetness of victory. You, as death." I said, pointing at Mot, "And you," I continued, turning my attention toward Yam, "from whom the waters from which all life emerged and is sustained, derive?"

I turned toward Shalim, who remained sullen upon his throne as his twin brother looked down at him. It was clear from the heated look in his golden eyes that Shahar was greatly disappointed in his decision, but there was nothing he could say nor do. However, I knew the reason behind Shalim's lack of cooperation.

The god of death only shrugged. "Since time immemorial, even before the mortals on Adamah climbed out from Yam's sludge, death has been ever-present. I will continue so with or without the gods of Egypt laying claim. What care should I have where those festering shits are concerned?"

As I was about to answer him, Yam turned to call out to him first. "Sludge, is it? You are but a child, Mot, compared to me. And to your love of mortal death, I scoff. Even the gods cannot fathom the eternal pre-existence of the waters of Chaos. Before me, things create were none, save things eternal. And eternal I endure. From my sludge, _boy_ , spewed the very fabric of all that were and will ever be, caused there only by the will of your father, Elyon.

"You speak in a manner so nonchalant, as though death were to see unto eternity's end. Tell me, then, oh Keeper of the Keys, how your great appetite might be sated come the death of that last mortal, after whom all that live shall live forever! You would whither in your hunger and in your greed that you might seek to make dead the deathless gods to fill the ever-empty hole in your heart."

Mot rose from his throne, then, and turned his sights from me toward the god of the seas, who stood as well. "Careful, Sea God, how you speak to that which can and will be the end of all mankind. With such, as you know, comes the eventual deaths of the gods themselves. Aye, it is true that you are the elder of all of the Elohim, save perhaps for Elyon. But ancient though you are, what will become of you, I wonder, when the seas and rivers that run across the world run dry and death comes to the fish that live in them and to the humans who thrive from your life-giving waters? You will be nothing. Death will claim you as well— _I_ will claim you. However, death will not claim that which it is. I will live unto eternity's end and watch as you recede back into the chaos of an empty Sea!"

 _And the humans thought me to be the arrogant god among us?_ I thought.

"Enough!" Father roared. "Your petty quibbling is beneath the both of you. Mot, my son, silence yourself. As shall you, Yam. I will not see this assembly distracted by egotism. Now, turn your attentions toward the matter at hand or else be gone!"

The two gods threw themselves back to their seats, as would angry children.

"And you, brother?" I asked Shalim as he continued to glare daggers at me from the second tier of thrones. "Would the god of the west not stand together with his brothers there—with his twin, nonetheless—to silence forever the very god who hates you for your deception? The very god who meets you with contempt daily when your chariot greets the great god Ra's sun barge upon the ending of the mortal day."

 _Probably not the best choice of words._ I thought. Quickly, I continued. "Nay, brother, not your deception, for you are not deceitful. Forgive me, for I misspoke. Instead, I would commend your cleverness in thwarting the king of all of the gods of Egypt! Such is ancient history in the minds of mortal men, but we here remember the day when you had proven your resourcefulness above that of Amun-Ra."

Not entirely true. I had no recollection of it. I only hoped that Shalim was not as bright as his evening sun.

"On that day when you had proven that we can, indeed, best them. Be it that you could do so in the minds of the gods, but that you might aid us in doing so again in battle!"

Sucking up was beneath me, but in this, no matter our history, I needed Shalim to help win this war.

"What say you, god of dusk?" I called to him. "May we lend your ingenious nature to this cause?"

Without pause, Shalim flashed himself to stand before me. His silver gaze swirled with the heat of his emotions, switching back and forth between their natural color and the burning white colors of the sun, the intensity of which shone as a pair of them on his face.

 _This is either going to end well or very, very badly._

My brother leaned his head in to whisper in my ear. "If you want my assistance, brother Yahweh, see to it that what is rightfully mine remains so. I will not concede this without that demand met."

I swallowed as Shalim returned to his seat. _Smug asshole. You want me to play this game in front of Father and the rest of the Elohim? Fine, brother. I will concede in public if it removes the bur from your ass._

"You ask me, brother," I yelled so that the whole assembly could hear my voice clearly, "that I make amends with you, to return to your good graces. An exchange, for the affront that I have brought upon you."

 _Affront? Give me a break. Why should I even have to coddle to my elder brother and his precious ego?_

"As the rift that was torn between us, by the decree of Elyon," I continued, "I, myself, decree that within Samaria, in whatever way her and her people shall evolve in time, the city which now stands as their capitol shall forever bear your name. On this, Shalim, I promise you. While I shall be their patron god, on order of our all-powerful father, they shall not forget you. Nor shall their lands spare you sacrifice or love. Forgive me, but this is all that I may give where your great city is concerned."

 _All that I am willing to give. Gods, brother, you can be such a little bitch at times._

To my surprise and great relief, Shalim inclined his head. _If you fail in this promise of yours, little brother,_ he spoke to me in my mind, _there will be nothing tying me to my city any longer that will keep me from razing it to the ground and pissing on the ashes._

I wanted to tell him off, but I knew better than to argue given the circumstances.

"Very well." Father continued. "To the rest, we shall stay the course of this meeting. War with Egypt: who here casts the vote affirming?"

The gods who sided with me in war stood again from their thrones. This time, however, Shalim rose to stand among them. Once more, Mot and Yam stayed.

"Clarify this for me, Yahweh," Mot muttered under his breath, "I do not see a means by which this act glorifies me—death is a ubiquitous entity and as such, I will be hated and feared by what remains of the mortals in Egypt when we would occupy them and their worship."

"And still you would grow in power, Mot, as we cut a swathe through their lands, and carve the names of the Elohim into the divine sarcophagus of Osiris himself. You then, brother, shall claim the vast land of the dead and all that dwell there. If you wish it so, you may strip away the great Atef crown of Osiris so that all may see which god of death wields more power. And so you shall rule over two realms. I see nothing but glory for you in this campaign. All you need do is rise."

I could see the lustful desire swirling in my brother's dark eyes. He wanted to stand, but I knew his heart too well. Mot never stood in affirmation of war until the tides were turned in our favor. I saw no reason to doubt that he would do the same now.

Satisfied, Father sent a shockwave throughout the hall. "It is settled then. Despite the indifference of Mot and Yam, we, the gods of Canaan, stand at a majority in favor of war with Egypt. At the behest of and before the armies of Yahweh, the Elohim will stand to war long against them. Thus we conclude!"

As the other gods dispersed, a few remained. Shalim, Kothar-wa-Khasis the smith god, and Anat, Ba'al's twin sister and the goddess of violence and warfare.

"A rousing speech, brother." Shalim swooned to me, dripping his voice with sarcasm. "But we shall see which of your words and oaths ring as falsehoods."

Kothar held his hand up to silence Shalim. "In time, perhaps. But in this, we have more need for strategy and advantage to reign supreme against the Egyptians than we have for honeyed words, falsehoods or not."

Shalim scoffed. "What strategies would you have in mind, brother? Aweing their gods at the sight of your forge that sits in the heart of their own lands? Or perhaps, as the god of magic, you would hope to distract them with tricks as if they had not magics that make a mockery of yours."

Kothar's dark beard bristled with fire and sparks. "Need now be the time to cause strife between us, Shalim? If you ceased to be so useless in our efforts here, pouting as a petulant child over a city of humans, all the while ignoring the larger picture."

Broad and stocky, Kothar-wa-Khasis had little patience for child's play. The god of magic and smithing, his rough features were burned and bruised from millennia at his forge. It had been Kothar who, at Father's command, beat into shape the great firmament of the sky to hold back the Chaos Sea from the earth. He had first shown the humans of Canaan how to bring metals out of the earth and shape them to suit their own desires and it was he who had also given the gift of fire to warm them in the winter nights. Though he was quick to anger, with a fiery temper when provoked, of any of the Elohim, it was perhaps him who loved the humans most.

"Let me guess, Kothar," Shalim continued, "you shall be the one to forge the platters on which to serve our heads to them? If one among us might be blamed for slaughter, may it be the very god who taught the mortals to forge weapons of war to begin with."

The smith god's eyes narrowed with rage. "Aye, that I did. And never shall I regret allowing them to create among themselves, being that their single opportunity to design a world as only the gods may do. But let us not forget how it was by stone and stick that mortal men killed one another before I taught them my arts. They will always find a way to slaughter one another, god or no god."

"Hence their only redeeming quality." Anat spoke, interrupting the two gods in their argument.

Feared by humans and gods alike, Anat was volatile and bloodthirsty on the best of days. Long, dark hair fell in waves across her shoulders and, much like the royalty of Egypt, Anat braided it with gold and precious stones. Perfectly proportioned features captured her face and voluptuous body. Her breasts clearly visible under the thin veil she wore, scars and cuts marred her form—war trophies, she called them. The white lion-skin shawl that Anat had draped from her shoulders had been splattered with the red stains of human blood. As the goddess of violence, blood, slaughter, and murder, Anat was well-known on the battlefield. As it was custom, soldiers who had been killed in the fighting were gathered together and set fire to as a sacrifice to her after every battle. As promiscuous as she was violent, Anat was also known to make love to the soldiers that worshipped her just before she had her lions rip out their throats. A great honor and sacrifice, the mortals said.

Anat's solid white eyes coldly watched Shalim and Kothar, no doubt hoping for one to attack the other. "I for one cannot wait until I can bathe in their entrails."

Shalim considered them both. "Is this what you would bring to war with you, Yahweh? An insatiably violent whore and a smith god who is as likely to run with the Egyptians he lives with than he is to fight them?"

Kothar immediately manifested a war hammer and raised it to strike down Shalim. "Are you drunk, boy? If so, I know of a way to sober you: shoving this hammer up your—"

Irritated, I shot lightning at the three of them. "Silence, all of you!" I shouted at them. "I will not have any of you in-fighting each other. That will only hasten this war in their favor. Save the taunting and sodomizing for their gods, or else withdraw yourselves from it."

 _Gods, now I sound like Father._

Anat put away the spear she had drawn on Shalim before she approached me. "Taking lessons in masculinity from Ba'al, are we?" she said as she cupped me between my thighs. Repulsed at my sister's sexually-charged sarcasm, I drew back. Anat looked back at the other two. "Perhaps the baby is correct, my beloved brothers. We can release ourselves a thousand times over on the battlefield." She turned her attention back to me, her eyes glowing white. "But do know this, Yahweh. While I relish war with the gods of Egypt as much as any of us, if I do not have my sacrificial appeasement met at the end of every day, by your order, I will take my wrath out on the nearest humans, be they Canaanite or Egyptian, and I will feast on their hearts and drink the marrow from their bones!"

I let out a shrill whistle. "So very considerate of you, sister. Consider your sacrifice duly noted."

With one last threatening sneer, Anat took her leave.

Kothar moved to stand before me just as our sister had, though the look in his eyes was far less threatening. "I will stand watch on the Egyptians and their gods from within their land. My forge there is shrouded in magic so that those foreign animals may not see it. I will alert you to any changes in hostility." Bowing stiffly, he, too, vanished from the room, leaving only Shalim and myself.

I did not sense as much hostility from him any longer. Shalim was seemingly more reserved, at least for the moment.

"So long as you keep your promise to me, Yahweh, that my city shall forever bear my name, then you may consider the two of us on good terms once more. But, brother, do not go back on your word."

I stared at him unflinching. "I never do. But know that while my promise may stand unto eternity, with it comes a favor in return that I might call upon within that time. As you have done in war before, I may call on you to hold your sun on its path in the sky to prolong my own battles. If I were you, brother, I would keep my ears open."

Shalim disappeared back to his temple. Once again, I was alone.

I stared out at the rows and tiers of empty thrones. Seventy gods.

 _Would the Elohim hold in a war against Egypt and its thousands of gods with only seventy at our disposal?_ I thought to myself.

Of course we would. Of those thousands of gods the Egyptians had at their disposal, only a select few would be capable of fighting in battle. As for the others—gods of small, minor aspects of existence: happiness, grass, motherhood. All worthless attributes where carnage was concerned.

I had no doubt that we would be evenly matched in divine numbers. However, we did have one advantage that those animals did not.

My armies.

Smiling to myself, I flashed out of the council chambers.

When the earth had been separated from the waters of Chaos, it was as a receding wave upon the shore of the sea. Left uncovered from this, the newly dried earth had been, much like the shores that were known to the mortals, enveloped in a primordial sand.

With Father's power, he had removed the sand that had been a blanket over the earth, and from it, formed a divine soldier from each grain.

Upon his upheaval when Father's will had stirred the waters, Yam had declared war against El Elyon.

Fool though he was at times, Yam was indeed primeval and held a power outmatched only by Father's abilities as a god of ultimate creation. Were it not for that, I was unsure of which of the two of them would be sitting upon the throne as king of the gods.

The war that had been waged among the two primordial gods had been a stalemate for eons. The brutality of it was enough to shape the mountains, valleys, and trenches of the earth. Upon each defeat of Yam's armies, a small pool of the Chaos Sea had been purified by Father and brought to the earth to cover the battlefields, as the seas now known to the humans across Adamah.

In Yam's final assault on Father, he had given birth to a great dragon, born from the flesh of his own side—Lotan, called by the mortals as Leviathan.

Father's divine armies had been the main targets of Yam's warfare until this point, as he was unable to confront Elyon directly.

However, Lotan had been ordered by Yam to attack the earth itself. Each time, Lotan had rammed its heads upon the earth, eventually breaking through and creating a chasm underneath it. Trapped within the bowels of the earth, Father had grabbed Lotan around all seven of its necks and hurled it back into Chaos.

While the dragon was unconscious, Father had ordered my elder brother, Kothar, to forge a great barrier above the earth to prevent another attack and to separate forever, the waters above the earth from those below, and to shut out Yam's chaos from El Elyon's order.

Powerless to get through the firmament above the earth, Yam called for a truce with Father, offering to rule instead the waters now upon Adamah and to, albeit grudgingly, submit to Elyon's rule as king of the gods.

From the great chasm that had been created by Lotan in Yam's final assault, Father had created Sheol—the pit—as the final resting place for all the mortal dead. Because of its chaotic birth, Father had set a barrier around Sheol so that the living could not enter, nor could the dead leave. Evil and righteous both, the pit made no distinction in its inhabitants.

Knowing from its point of designation that the underworld would become crowded and unruly, Father had set Mot over it to rule the new plane as god of death and of all the dead. Mot's rule was absolute. Father had forfeited all command of Sheol to his son, who ever-guarded his realm from Yam and the chaos that came with him.

The armies that had been brought into existence by Father to fight the primordial war against the god of the sea had been gifted to Ba'al upon Yam's defeat. Innumerous, my eldest brother had commissioned them to fight against the other pantheons whenever they had crossed boundaries and threatened our people.

For a time, they alone were the only shield between our warring pantheons.

While Ba'al had always been a god of war, when he had pleaded Father to allow me to take on the mantle as a god of war myself, Ba'al had reasoned that his other aspects required the forefront of his attentions for the sake of the humans that had been created. And so Ba'al had forfeited the Armies of Heaven once more unto me.

But I had no intentions of following the cycle.

At first glance, each soldier appeared as a small glint of light. As a whole, they appeared collectively as the seabed from which they sprung, shimmering in the shallow waters off the light of the midday sun.

Upon closer inspection, however, each warrior was identical to the next. Human-like in their structure, the soldiers had no facial features. Father had created them this way intentionally—no mouths with which to betray information or to scream as cowards a they fled the field of battle. No eyes to see the expanse of their enemy, the sea, and to fear of it. No ears with which to hear the deaths of their comrades, nor a nose to smell the metallic blood spilt on the ground. They would fight until their destruction, and would give no pause, nor feel any pain. Once their missions and tasks were completed, they would be healed to fight anew—unto eternity should I command for it.

As soldiers under the command of a god, I held a telepathic link with them. To motivate them, the only thing I needed to do was to think of the oncoming war. Immediately, jeering and shouting erupted among them within my mind in response.

"It seems to me you have them well in control, brother."

Physically jumping in spite of myself, I had been so focused on my war that I had paid no attention to Ba'al's sudden appearance. "By the gods, Ba'al, make some noise!"

My brother laughed in response. "That is for interrupting my conquests in my temple earlier in the day."

 _Fair enough,_ I thought. _Though it does not make you any less of an ass._

"By their excitement for conquest, Yahweh," Ba'al told me playfully, "I would think them Anat's army instead of yours."

I glared an arched brow at my brother. "By your aversion to war, Ba'al, and your human whoring as of late, I would think you Aphrodite instead of yourself."

It had been known that the Greek whore-goddess of sexual lust and lovemaking had made her rounds even to our shores. How half of my pantheon had not fallen to her alone was beyond me.

"I have alerted my priests to prepare young men to ready themselves for war." Ba'al said. "I sense you'll have little problem doing the same."

Pausing, I knew my brother was choosing his next words carefully. "I do know, however, that you have not raised a human army for battle before, and I am here to offer my aid with it should the need arise."

 _Does my entire family think me incompetent?_ "I've seen it done before!" I snapped. "I know what I'm doing, Ba'al."

The god of war raised his hands in defense. "I never said you didn't. But practice does make perfect, and you've very little in the way of both. I'm only looking after you."

I caught myself sighing with agitation. I should not have been short with him. I knew Ba'al meant well, but I needed to do this in order to prove myself, not only as a capable defense to the Egyptian pantheon, but to my own self-doubts as a capable god.

"By the way, Yahweh," Ba'al continued, "I come as messenger, not General. Father is in his chambers, wishing to speak to you. He wants to know more about your conquest and what you have planned as a backup should Fate shit on us instead of smile."

"The great god El could have come to me directly with that." I said sarcastically.

"Yes." Ba'al agreed, "But then, I am the firstborn of the Elohim and among the gods of war, I am the one to be told of such things before my subordinates."

Exasperated, I motioned toward my armies. "Babysit for me until I return?"

I could see the shimmer of Ba'al nodding his head in agreement the instant before I brought myself to Elyon's personal temple.

For all of Father's power, I could not for the immortal life of me, understand why he would go to the trouble of creating a temple for himself that was so... broken.

Compared to Ba'al's elaborate complex, our father's temple was the size of the main structure on my brother's grounds.

Impressive nonetheless, the exterior of the temple was built with metals, living materials, and stones which did not exist on the earth for human use. From the outside, it appeared as if Father dwelled within a large, circular forest; one that had grown through an ancient temple floor which had seen centuries-old ruin. Statues of stone, from a time when man had first learned to carve our images from the rock face littered the immediate area. Large trunks of trees served as the columns for Elyon's home. Iridescent and shimmering in all the colors of a rainbow, the trunks and branches in fact only acted as a prism of light that refracted Father's divine glory. Above me, Father's temple was canopied by leaves of gold, silver, bronze, and every precious gem that blossomed into an array of shades and patterns which captured every conceivable spectrum. It was from this place that the lights that illuminated the heavens of our realm derived. The trees that made up the colonnade ring were the very first of all of the trees on the earth.

Stepping past the tree line, the outside world vanished with a ripple. The tree columns enhanced themselves into a vast forest. All around me, small orbs of light darted this way and that—Father's servants, who travelled around the earth and reported back to him all of the thoughts and actions that flow through the humans of Canaan.

Within Elyon's temple world existed a sun in its own sky. It served as a beacon to tell of Father's location, always appearing directly above him. Should the great god not be home, the sun set and was replaced with the dark nothingness of nighttime. A brilliant aurora of a thousand colors laced the sky in his absence.

At the center of the forest was a clearing, in which Father lived with his wife—my mother, Asherah.

The pair of them sat on two thrones beside one another, both before a great hearth fire. The flames were enchanted so that their colors reflected the prosperity and emotional state of the Canaanite people. When the fire burned with warm hues of red and orange, it told of the jovial content of the humans. Likewise, a blue or purple flame reflected their sorrow. If the fire was black, then it showed that the humans burned with hatred in their hearts. White for their fears and discontent. However, if the fire were to ever go out, it would mean the death of all who worshiped us.

Mother smiled next to a hearth that flickered between black, blue, and red. "My baby boy," she said softly, her voice filling the air with a warm presence. "Come, sit. Catch me up and tell me of this great conquest of yours."


	7. Rallying for War

"So," Asherah, my mother, said after a long pause since listening to my accounting of the recent events, "you have found a sense of purpose in these humans of yours, Yahweh? I am glad to hear of it. I was beginning to wonder if you would ever settle down."

Blushing in spite of myself, and my mother's double-entendre, I smiled and nodded. "They are, as Father promised, much like me. Brash and not content with going unnoticed. They are very warlike, these Samaritans. If I didn't know any better, I would say that Ba'al has had an influence on them."

Mother's smile caused a flash of soft light to illuminate the darkness of the forest around her.

The first goddess of fertility within our pantheon, Asherah was well established in this station as the mother of the seventy gods of Canaan. From Ba'al down to myself, if there were one among the gods that we would all reserve love for, it would undoubtedly be her. As fluid as the nature that she overlooked, I had noticed millennia ago that none of the Elohim see Mother in the same way. To Ba'al and Anat, she appeared dressed in armor, with the divine glow of victory and abundance about her. To me, she appeared tall and beautiful, with skin the color of a myrrh tree and eyes that danced in all the colors of a rainbow. Dark hair crowned her head in a braid, upon which sat a laurel wreath of butterflies.

Father had told us that, as her contribution to creation, Mother had allowed her breastmilk to flow around the firmament. Come the night, when mortals gazed upon the stars, they would see also the gift which she had left them, that they might nurture themselves in the beauty of it. In response, the humans had seen fit to honor her with an intricately carved pole as opposed to a temple, around which they decorated with colorful clothes and jewels while they danced and sang hymns in her name.

While she was reserved most of the time, it was not unknown for Mother to scold her children. When she did so, none of the other gods dared approach her in her wrath. Not even her husband.

I turned to look at Elyon, whose attention was held firmly in the fires of his hearth. "Ba'al told me you wanted to speak to me, Father?"

Continuing his gaze for several moments, he turned to look up at me. "Yes, my son. That I did. I wanted to speak to you away from the prying ears of your siblings and their opinions and swayings."

 _And we couldn't speak within each other's minds, as normal?_

As a rule, Father's temple, unlike those of the rest of the Elohim, negated all of our powers while we were here. It gave us an appreciation for the tender lives and natures of the humans who worshipped us. In his presence, here, we were as powerless as a human would be against us.

"Tell me finally and in confidence, Yahweh," Father said, his eyes piercing me, looking for any tell in my features, "why is it that you suddenly wish war so passionately with the Egyptians? While you are a god of war, you have never craved it as Ba'al or Anat have. Is this to do with you, personally, or is it a caring love for your humans that you have so quickly instilled in yourself? On what grounds do you wage this war with Egypt and her gods?"

Stunned, but somewhat offended at his wording, I needed no time to respond with an answer that I felt with every part of me. "On the grounds of sweeping into Canaanite lands, caressing her citizens with protection and wealth, before allowing their generous tides to recede, leaving our once proud mortals to die in desolation and despair! Their sin is treason, Father. Treason against the humans—my humans—who would love and worship them, but due to neglect, may find no solace words on their tongues. I will not allow this!"

Embarrassed at how heated I had become in my words, I sat back in silence. I could feel the heat tracing up my face as Father took in my words into consideration.

"While I would be quick to agree with you," He pondered after a time, "I wonder if you have taken into account the consequences of losing this war. You mustn't forget that, as gods, our penalties for defeat are not the same as the mortals'. They may die. They may be completely eradicated. They may be captured and taken into Egypt as slaves and laborers. But upon that death, Sheol and Mot will claim them. For us, this may be a small issue on the grand scale, but over time, our humans will be taken over in their minds and in their hearts—indoctrinated into the faiths of Egypt. And in doing so, we, the gods will suffer, and if we do not act, we will, in turn, replace them upon Adameh and die."

"I do not need lessons in warfare!" I snapped, my eyes igniting fire, "I am a god of war, Father, and would much appreciate it if the lot of you would respect me enough to see me as the war god—as the general of the armies of Heaven—that I am, rather than a petulant, know-nothing child! I do not need to be schooled so commonly in basic strategic planning, advantage or disadvantage, and immitigable loss. I know how humans work. I was there at their creation, after all. I know their warfare, just as I know their hearts. I know well how the gods go to war, and I do not need to be suckled at the breast of a sword so that I might learn it. I know what I am doing concerning war, so quit fucking patronizing me!"

Taking a breath, I realized that I had misspoken as Father narrowed his eyes at me.

 _Damn it._

Father stood up from his throne to tower over me. I could feel his anger as a thick wall in front of me. Between us, the hearth fire grew in size and intensity before it returned to normal.

The great god let out a tired breath. "Apologies, my son. I do not mean to belittle your stations, nor do I wish to make it seem that I think you ignorant. Though you are the youngest of the Elohim, you are wise and powerful beyond most of them. Forgive me for crossing that line with you."

 _Wait, what?_

I was confused and all the more embarrassed. "Forgive you for what, Father? You are the king of the gods. Your word is law. You cannot overstep. It is I who speaks without thinking."

Elyon shook his head. "No god is infallible, Yahweh. I may head this pantheon, but I am capable of overstepping my bounds as much as any, nor would I be the first of the pantheon kings to do so."

True. It had been thousands of years since I had last heard of it happening, but there were cases of pantheons revolting against their king when they felt injustice from them. In Greece, before the Olympian gods had risen to power, an elder generation ruled. Titans, they were called, their tyranny caused many humans to flee their lands. We offered them shelter, which they took kindly to. Seeing our mercy, the Titans threatened us with war. When the Olympian gods rebelled, the Elohim, myself included, offered aid. While they were victorious in their civil war, it was not long before Zeus overstepped as well. Though that particular event was settled internally among them, it had come to our attention. For a time, we, too, feared Elyon's power should the same happen on our side.

But it never has.

I stood and bowed. "Forgive me, Elyon." I said, "But my righteous anger has been building since being handed Samaria. I wish to let it loose, but never against my own family."

Father offered me a kind smile. "I understand, _bene_." He told me, using the Canaanite word for son. "I only hope you might let your righteous anger burn against those who would harm your own children, one day. Maybe then you will understand a father's worry. Even if your own son cannot be killed, the sacrifice of themselves to preserve their own will always remain."

 _Right._ I thought. _As if, I would ever have a son._

"Asking after your war efforts is not the reason I called you here, though."

"What then?" I asked, still sounding short with him.

Father returned to where he had been sitting. "It is about my involvement in it. I can no longer be a part of this world in the way that my children are. I asked after you so that I might let you know that I am recusing myself from not only your war with Egypt but from most matters that involve the humans. You had demanded not long ago that the other gods stop coddling you as a child. Here is where that test truly begins. You are on your own, Yahweh. All of the Elohim are. I will no longer concern myself with your territories, nor will I baby any of you. If you make a mistake, then it shall be amongst yourselves that you fix it. Prosperity or ruin, your actions are your own and they will play out as you will them to."

I scowled at him. "I don't understand."

"A month has passed since I have relinquished dominion over the lands. From that point on, it has been my intent to allow the Elohim to govern and rule your lands yourselves. You are their gods and at the forefront of their worship and rituals. While they will still honor me, it is you that I want them to revere."

I must have looked concerned, as Father brought himself to stand before me again and placed his hand on my shoulder. "Do not worry yourself so much. I will be here should you need advice. Life will go on for us as it always has. Now, go on yourself. You've soldiers to amass."

Inclining my head to Elyon and Asherah, I left the clearing to exit the temple grounds. As I did so, a barrage of prayers assaulted me within my head.

 _Lord, please! We call for your aid._

 _What are we to do if we hear the ground trembling from chariots again?_

 _I cannot lose another child!_

Thousands of prayers and incantations at once slammed into me to the point of making me nauseous.

I had to do something. And I would.

Taking myself from ours to the human realm, I brought myself to the courtyard of the palace in Shalim. Before me, in the shade at the corner of the yard, a group of a half-dozen children lazily thrust sticks at one another before an older, very obese man in military regalia.

 _What in Sheol?_ "Ba'al," I called, barely moving my lips to whisper the word.

By our nature, gods and immortal beings rely on our names and memories to stay in power, hence the reasoning for worship and an afterlife for our mortals to dwell in. No matter the distance or the faintness of the calling, all immortals brought themselves to the attention of those foolish enough to desire it. While with humans, such an act normally only brought either a blessing or curse from that god, when we called upon one another personally, it was always a summons which we would answer swiftly.

The god of war materialized before me, towering unseen before the earth, which attempted to shrink away at his presence before I had even finished uttering his name.

Ba'al's look toward me told me he was biting back sarcasm. "So, first you tell me to babysit your soldiers while you talk with Father, and now I see you going to and fro on the earth and walking up and down upon it? I see why you are the god of wind, brother. You cannot bother to be held still and you go where you please."

I rolled my eyes. This from a fertility god? At the very least, I was not following directions from a hard-on.

"I do believe it was you, brother, who told me I needed to get my soldiers in order for our war. Hence why I'm bothering with it. Now, tell me: does that," I said, pointing down toward the children playing at being soldiers, "look like something you would place on our front lines?"

Ba'al scowled in confusion. "I suppose as a distraction," he offered.

"Seriously?"

"What?" He asked unapologetically, "Nobody expects the Canaanite Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise and I highly doubt the Egyptians would notice a storm of arrows if we sent these _things_ out to die with them."

I brought myself down to the ground to examine the scene for my brother. "These things _are_ the army, you moron!"

"And what of him?" he asked, pointing at the children's master. "Is he the army as well? Look at him, Yahweh. What are we going to do, push him up a mountain and let him crash down into the Egyptian chariot lines? If that's your plan, brother, I do believe there's a man in the Greeks' Tartarus right now who loves pushing massive things up hills and who would love a change of pace."

I threw out an obscene gesture toward the god of war for his sarcasm. Though I did have to admit, what stood before me was a pathetic sight, even for children.

"Let us go summon the king, Ba'al." I told him, "Surely we can scrape together something of a defense while your glorious Canaanite army trains to bury them."

Together, we teleported into the main receiving room of the palace, where I noticed the king sitting upon his throne speaking with an advisor. A young boy sat at his feet, going back and forth between offering the king fruit and strumming on a small harp.

Immediately, Ba'al and I both burst into two columns of smoke and ash to alert His Majesty of our presence. At once, everyone in the room fell prostrate before us.

 _At least this time the king did not soil himself._

"My Lord, Yahweh!" he called out with his face against the marble floor. "It is an honor to receive you here. To what do I owe this visit from you two of the Elohim?"

I allowed my voice to carry in the thunder and wind that I was creating. "Hear my words and be still, king of Samaria. I come with Lord Ba'al, that we might acquisition your authority on our behalf."

At the mention of my brother's name, the king began to shake with fear. "Ba'al Hadad is with you?" he asked, "Two gods of the storm and war. I may only hope that you are at last answering our prayers for vengeance!"

"We are, indeed," Ba'al called out to him. "Upon Lord Yahweh's insistence and at the decree of El Elyon, the father of the gods, we have heard your prayers for revenge and for war with the animals of Egypt. Though you now tremble with fear at their very names, the gods and Pharaohs of Egypt will become to you tales of jest and conquest unto the third generation from you."

I sent more thunder to echo throughout the hall. The last thing I desired was Ba'al taking away from my glory. Thankfully, he got the hint and stopped talking.

"What my brother says is correct, king of Shalim." I boomed, "While you stand now a broken and timid people, it is by my decree that we shall raise from you a mighty army that shall bring low those who would come to slaughter you and your subjects. You shall call together all men of current fighting age and their children. From them, we, the Elohim, shall strip away their mortal fears and usher in their place, soldiers bred for the sole purpose of battle.

"Upon the day that we shall blow the horns of war from Heaven, those who now stand as children, barely old enough to walk, shall stand then as generals and commanders over an army whose collective goal is the fortification and protection of Canaan and her people. Though your children are young, your children's children shall be stout and strong come war with Egypt, when we have fully brought you to be ready to face the fierceness and lethality of their generals and gods."

The king regained his posture and sat back upon his throne, though it was very clear that he still shook with fearful reverence of the gods before him. "Clear the room." He ordered, forcing the lyre boy and his guards to abandon him alone with Ba'al and me.

In response, I ceased the power of my storm and simply existed within the still air. Ba'al followed suit.

"What is it you would have me do, my lords?" the king asked. "Since my days as a child—a prince under my father before me, I have lived in fear of our enemies to the west and south. I would do anything; sacrifice anything, in order to lay my own children to sleep with tales of prosperity rather than war. To send them to their rooms without a personal escort of soldiers to stand watch at night or barricades to defend their doors and windows and balconies from Egyptian assassins." Standing, the king regained his regal bearing. "I am ready and craving for this war, Elohim! I pray to you gods that I might be remembered throughout the eons as the king who saw to the security of my people and to all of Canaan!"

 _I will trade you three kings for this one and his tenacity, Yahweh._ Ba'al spoke in my mind.

Ignoring my brother, I moved before the king, allowing my winds to tassel the hair around his face and beard. Older in years than his tenacity would show him as, traces of gray matted his dark hair. Around his fiery, yet tired eyes, crow's feet spread out like a lightning strike to border his cheeks. Though the king was still broad around his shoulders, in his advancing age, he had begun to form out around his middle. Even standing still, I could hear his labored breathing and the soft creaks of his bones. In all, I would guess the king at two and a half score in age.

"No," I told him mournfully, only a human hand's width from his face.

The fierceness in his gaze turned to sorrow and confusion. "I do not understand." He said.

I manifested royal battle armor onto the table beside him. Scaled and gleaming in a thin layer of gold, the armor was a nearly perfect copy of the set that Ba'al wore, though adding in the helmet, which the god of war denied.

"Adorn yourself, king of Shalim," I told him. "Put on this armor that I have given you." Immediately, a servant appeared beside him and began to undress the king from his royal robes in order to set and tighten his armor lacing.

With each piece the servant fitted onto the king, his breathing strained further. When all of the pieces were secured, I again materialized a shield and spear, with a sword hanging from the tunic at the king's waist.

"Defend yourself, mortal king, or else you will surely die!" I commanded him before I replaced the servant with an Egyptian foot soldier, who went immediately on the offensive.

 _What the Sheol are you doing, Yahweh?_ My brother demanded.

 _Patience, Ba'al._ I responded. _While he is eager, the king of Shalim is brash, and will not listen to reason without firsthand knowledge. Relax. I will not kill him._

Raising his shield, the king deflected the soldier's attack. Staggering back from the force of it, he brought up the spear that I had given him through the Egyptian's wicker shield, directly into his enemy's upper arm. Falling to the ground in pain, the Egyptian soldier dropped his weapon. The king made no sudden move as he labored for breath. Sighing deeply, he stepped forward and drew the sword from the sheath. Bringing it down, he struck the soldier through his exposed neck, cleaving his head from his shoulders.

When the Egyptian that I had created was dead, the king dropped down to one knee, bracing himself on the thick spear in his right hand and on the shield he held in his left. Completely winded, the old king coughed as he slowly drew himself up from the floor.

Satisfied, I replaced the armor he wore with his regalia as he had been.

"Tell me," I mused. "While you fought well, as I knew you would, it was against but one soldier. Listen to yourself strain and tell me, human, if you could face a score more, or even twice that number, without falling."

The king swallowed before answering. "I will admit, my lord, that I have not seen combat since I was in my youth—half the age I am now. However, I am trained and battle-hardened and I am ready to protect—and if Mot sees fit to beckon me—die for my people and homeland."

"By Elyon, what I would not give to have every king in Canaan a twin to you." I told him earnestly. "Be that as it may, you are old. I have no softer word for it. If you step out onto that battlefield—against fifty-thousand soldiers, the front lines of which are charioteers—Mot will not be beckoning you down to Sheol so much as he will be commanding you. You _will_ die."

Silent, the king returned to his throne, where he rested his head in his hands to sulk.

"Woe to me, then!" He sobbed against his fingers. "That I might live to see the sun rise a thousand-score times, but die inside my heart in the evening of my life when the fortune and life of my people cry out to me the loudest. Hear my aching pleas, you gods of war: that I may die then, at the frontlines, taking my oath of sworn defense of Canaan with me down to Sheol. It is better, then, that my sons and grandsons know the valiance with which I fought and died than they remember me as a sad, fat old man whose heart gave out eating berries reclined on a coward-king's throne.

"I beseech you, Lord Yahweh, my god of gods. Do not allow this to become my fate. When I am dead and the fires of royal burial have sent my body as smoke up to Heaven, it will be my eldest son who will inherit this throne. With it, this anxious war, as well. He is already a man with young children of his own and stands as the general of my forces. However, against the Egyptian horde, I fear for his life. As his own son cannot walk on his own yet, the power of Samaria will fall, then, to my second son if Horus sees fit to strike my heir dead. He is a fool and a drunkard, and without my stern hand to beat him when needed, my lands will fall to ruin, as have the deserts of the Sinai."

 _Well, that was a vastly different circumstance._ I thought, remembering Shahar's story. But I held my tongue, cursing the admirable obstinacy that was the king of Shalim.

I sighed deeply as I looked to Ba'al, whose golden eyes held a sorrowful respect for the mortal before us.

"In your love of your land and of your people, you truly have no equal. However, I will not contradict human fate, in either reversing the flow of time over you or granting you immortality so that you may be like the gods, only so you may see the day of war. Such an act would fly in the face of El Elyon, and surely, my brother, Mot, would be even less pleased."

As if I had handed down his sentence for execution, the king's eyes brimmed with tears. To his pride, he did not let them fall.

"That being said," I continued, "I contend that you shall bear witness to the birth of a new nation of conquerors, soldiers and the heroes of Canaan from your very loins. You shall see them rise from the ashes of a once frightened and defeated Samaria and by your hand, so long as you shall live, they shall continue to grow in skill and fortitude under you. Moreover, I make this promise to you as a god of the Elohim: until the princes and generals rally the children of war, by then grown as men of the sword, you and your people shall want for nothing. You shall not toil the ground for your food nor shall you shackle the oxen to plow your fields for harvest. You shall not wade into the sea for your fish or take to the forests for your hunted game. You shall do only two things until the time is come to send a generation bred for war unto its violent maw. You shall worship the gods in festival and sacrifice as you have been, and you shall take to the barracks any who can stand upon his own feet, no matter their age, and train them up to be gods of war themselves. If you do these things—pray and train—I will afford all else to you in your comfort and survival. No sickness shall plague you, nor shall any famine starve you. On this, I swear to you in exchange for what I demand of you as your patron god."

 _Watch yourself, brother._ Ba'al cautioned me. _Such a trifling may do more harm than good._

I was well aware. I remembered Father telling me of Ba'al's attempts to do the same for his own people and the disaster that followed. But I would learn from his mistakes. I would be passive in my protection of my own humans.

The king clutched at his mouth with both hands, disbelief etched across his face. "You honor me, Lord!" He exclaimed. "While I know now that war is but forty years off, I shall concede to my death before then. I accept your promise with glee and give my own in return. As we shall not want for sustenance so that we may prepare for war uninterrupted, so too shall you gods not want for sacrifice nor due honor, that we may always give thanks for your compassion toward us. Come the day when the animal that is Egypt next bears its teeth at us, in the name of Yahweh, we shall drive our spears down its throat so that it may threaten us no longer. When men and kings of lesser nations come to us in awe, demanding how we had afforded ourselves victory against such a foe, we shall answer with your name. Samaria shall prevail!"

Beaming with pride and satisfaction, I returned with Ba'al to the palace courtyard.

A large and open area, the courtyard stood surrounded by the high defensive walls of the king's lavish home. While it stood empty upon our arrival, I used my power to summon the leading military officers within army of Samaria.

Confused at their sudden relocation, they all murmured and glanced around amongst themselves. Numbering twenty in total, each commander stood at the head of a division of men one hundred and fifty strong. Though scarce in number and in training, these soldiers were of Canaan, and, as the defensive shield against Egypt, were expected to fight with the ferocity of twice their numbers.

I turned to Ba'al, who had taken the form of the prince and heir of Samaria—the undisputed general of the armies. Sighing, I followed suit, shedding my divine form in favor of the king's second son.

While the king himself had denounced his younger child as a drunkard and a fool, I knew better than to assume that he would tarnish his father and brother's reputations by appearing so publicly. As all princes of Canaan were required military service and specialized training in the arts of war and combat, it would have been amiss to the soldiers before me if their prince was not present.

What's more, as far as the humans were concerned, it was, in fact, their pair of princes standing before them. That alone would pressure the king's real sons into action so that they would not be able to sell themselves as Egyptian satrapies upon their father's death without a revolt for treason.

"My lords of war!" Ba'al called out to them from atop the steps that led out to the yard, "Consider yourselves brought here by the winds of the gods, so that you may hear the commands of your lord and god, Yahweh.

"It should come as no surprise to you—the beating heart of the armies of Samaria—that the horns of war shall soon be blown across the plains, stealing you from your families and your plows; forcing you to lay down your tools of peace and grab hold of those of war, with which to cut down the enemies that befall us and threaten your homes. The gods have heard our prayers, brothers, and rescue us from the clutches of Horus' mighty talons! By the grace and power of our god, the lord of storms and war, Yahweh of the Elohim, we have been given the opportunity to release ourselves from the brutal threat of Egypt and her gods."

Meek cheering and bashful, confused applause echoed off the palace walls as they took in the news. Towering above them, the god of war continued his speech.

"Though you are now, as you have been the whole of your lives, part-time soldiers: called to war on a whim only to return to your farms and livestock upon return, I tell you now, in the words of our patron god, this life is over. War is on the horizon, and we need you to lead us into battle! Be strong and brave; do not be afraid or tremble when you face the Pharaoh of Egypt and the horde he brings with him, for there are gods greater than this one king with us than with him. His gods are not like ours—they are weak, with only the human strength of the Pharaoh and his chariots. But we have Yahweh, our god, to help us and to fight our battles as the god of war and commander of the armies of Heaven itself! And he shall judge among the nations, and shall rebuke the feared Egyptians. They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks and sickles. Egypt shall not lift up sword against Canaan, neither shall they learn war any longer!"

With that, the timid agreement of the mortals exploded into cheers and victory shouts.

 _This sudden selflessness is unbecoming of you, brother._ I thought to myself. _By all means, though, continue to chant my name among the citizens and soldiers. Rile them to this cause._

"However," I called out to them as their roaring died down, "to do this will not be an easy task, nor will it be swift. In truth, the gods have declared that such a war will not take place within the current generation. Canaan stands unprepared for such an assault at current, and Samaria cannot act as the defensive front of our lands if it is a broken and weakened wicker shield. To strengthen your cause and the men who you will call to fight and die at your side, you will need to temper yourselves in the fires of war and come together, not as an in-fighting state, but as a nation dedicated to a single cause."

Their moods changed, then, back to confusion and even anger. "We cannot split ourselves and be in many places at once as the gods can." Solomon, the commander of the third division, called back to me. "How can we tend to our families and our livelihoods while struggling to teach children and commoners how to even hold a sword? We have requested aid from the kings of other Canaanite city-states, but they refuse to risk their own men with Egypt so close and actively hostile."

I raised my hand to calm him. "How indeed, Captain Solomon?" I retorted. "The gods in their wisdom have come to my father personally and have explained such to him. Are the gods not benevolent? Even gods of war? Your king has been promised by the Elohim that all of the professions that do not aid directly in combat training shall be toiled in your stead. Focus, then, on war, and clothing the children that shall grow to fight it in the armor of your ancestors. The gods have arranged that all matters of hunting, fishing, farming, and shepherding that are the source of your lives shall leave you wanting for naught. In return, all those who can hold a sword and stand unaided shall be brought to your barracks and taught the arts of war. Your lives and those of your children and grandchildren shall be dedicated to Yahweh and to Ba'al that they may be hardened soldiers, fearing no foreign power.

"Though war is long off from your memories, and your senses for battle have dulled, you will quickly remember the sensation. Your skirmishing among each other for food or land or pride is at an end. You will muster yourselves unto this single cause; you will breathe it in as a woman's sweet perfume until it encapsulates your very beings. For the next complete generation, you shall know war in all of its terrifying beauty. Tell me this, servants of Ba'al, Anat, and Yahweh: do you know the sound that a human body makes when it is crushed underfoot? The smell that flesh produces when it is kissed by fire? The color blood turns as it dries, or its smell when it is cut fresh from a man doomed to die? Have you ever pulled a human's heart from their chest? They are delicious if you have the stomach for it. I ask you, have you ever waded through a battlefield in the valley, your feet sunk deep in entrails, blood, and body parts? If you have done none of these things—if you have seen or felt none of these things—then you are not ready for the scourge of war! And yet, you will be!"

Exhilarated by my own speech, I shed the prince's skin as I tore my essence away into the form of dark smoke between us. Duplicating myself, I willed the empty shell of the king's son to stand where I had been. Their mortal eyes would not know the difference.

"Amass yourselves, my humans." I called out from the swirling blackness, my godly voice echoing off the walls as I commanded the winds to pick up and thunder to sound, "Become one with my ways as a god of war, and then you and your children, and your children's children shall be like unto gods when I call to you to defend the lands of Canaan and slaughter the people of Egypt! Canaan. Shall. Survive!"


	8. To War

I looked on mournfully as the parade of humans danced and sang around one another, following close-knit in a thick pair of lines away from the palace. Torchbearers and slaves mixed in with the crowd, carrying with them many possessions of gold and ivory; trunks of fine clothes and trays lined with jars of oils and perfumes.

At the forefront of the procession, a half-dozen men hoisted a corpse on their shoulders.

The king of Shalim was dead.

Laying upon a platform of gold-laden wood, the king was well-dressed for the occasion. The body itself was wrapped in linen, much like the mummification of Egyptian royalty, while incense and jewels had been placed between the wrappings. With their influence by Egypt, many of the king's internal organs were removed and placed into Canopic jars. Each one capped with the statue head of one of the gods, they were all placed within a chest, which was carried by the king's vizier immediately behind his body.

Before his death, the old king had commissioned his own funerary clothing. Tyrian purple and crimson wool had been laced with gold thread and had been wrapped loosely around him. Upon his face, the king wore a golden funeral mask. I had manifested the mask myself as my own gift to him before his burial. Bearing his perfect likeness, I had made it as timeless and durable as the gods themselves. Under no circumstance would history forget the face of this man.

As the caravan passed, women screamed and mourned as they saw the king upon his final throne. Tearing at their hair and scratching at themselves, I knew that it was all for show. As popular as their king had become in decades past, the women were simply hired mourners made to stir emotion along the funeral train's path. Be that as it were, they were convincing nonetheless.

It was almost enough to make me think they cared about the man who had ordered their husbands and male children taken away to prepare for war. Though they knew the cause was a righteous one, I remembered very clearly the string of curses and the nearly palpable hatred the women of Samaria had felt toward their king.

 _What a lord we have, so consumed in vengeance and lust that he would steal away our sons from our very breasts before they are even too old to suckle! And at the gods' command, no less! Father El, bless my children home away from the threats of war and death. Save them from Mot's great house so that they might come home to my own instead!_

That they would hate their own king for my orders was to be expected, but their hatred had spilled over to the gods themselves—the brunt of which was mine to bear.

 _I suppose,_ I thought, _if I were human, I would hate the gods for such a fate, as well._

It was midday by the time the funeral procession had made it to the royal burial chambers. Set just outside of the city walls and carved into the rock face that created the foundation of the city in the shadow of the Mount of Olives, the necropolis had been the burial place of the kings of Shalim for centuries.

Canaanite funerals had always been very quick and boring affairs, even those for their royalty. After the king's belongings had been placed inside the rock-cut tomb, the congregation took their leave. Alone, his eldest son and the successive king, had laid a light kiss to the opulent mask on his father's face.

"The cup has been passed from you, Abba," he said, the word for _father_ spilling from his mouth as his emotions gave way. A pair of tears fell from his eyes onto the dead king's face, causing the gold to shimmer underneath them. "You may sleep with your fathers now, buried in the womb of your precious city, but I now bear the weight of your crown. In my mourning for you, it grows so heavy upon my head. Yahweh beckons me off to war soon, as he had promised you he would. For over two-score years you have prepared us in all of our means, to battle for Shalim and our liberation. On this, your wish for so long, I will promise on my life: so shall it be fulfilled.

"But, Father, have you not looked me in the eyes these last forty years? I am no longer the young general that I was in my youth. Nay, I am as old as you were that day when you swore allegiance to our god of gods, _Yahweh_ of the Elohim."

There was no mistaking the undertones of spite and even hatred in the way the prince spoke my name. As if I had taken all that he had from him in this world.

"My bones ache for rest at even the slightest swinging of my sword and my head swims at the heft of the armor riding my shoulders. I fear, Father, that I will soon be lying next to you here, sown into the black parade of Mot's feared Sheol. Though I sacrifice and pray to the gods that I may dance into my grave when my own grandchildren are more than the babes they are now, Egypt is such a large foe to vanquish for such peace."

The newly crowned king straightened himself, sniffling back his tears. "But for you, Father, for Shalim, for Canaan, I will lead. As you so often said, Canaan will prevail."

Wiping the remaining tears from his eyes, he bowed stiffly one last time before exiting the tomb, no doubt to return back home to the palace.

I stared down at the king's cold body, laying on the stone shelf where it would slowly decompose into bone. At five-and-ninety years of age, he had lived a long life. As I had promised him so long ago, he had died at peace, knowing that the dream which we had grown together would be accomplished.

"Were it that the gods would visit Sheol," I told his lifeless body, "I would be the first to tell you of our victories to come. You have ignited a flame, King of Shalim, in your people and in me as well. Such a flame will not be extinguished so long as I hold sway in this world. I promise you this."

At my words, thunder shook the walls around me as small rocks and dust littered the floor of the tomb. It seems Fate itself had heard my oath. Honest though it was, I cursed inwardly at myself for my brash words. Divine promises must be upheld at all cost.

A shimmering of raw power rose from behind me as I spoke. I ignored my brother as I reminisced these last forty years and how they had played out so well in my favor.

Mot shifted around me to run his cold fingers along the death mask of the king. Almost as if the gentle touch of a lover, I was momentarily taken aback that he was capable of that type of emotion.

"If only the gods would have planted the Tree of Life in his garden, eh?" Turning to face me, my brother form flashed with a soft light as his power grew.

As the mortals of Canaan so feared death, they were adamant in their refusal to provide Mot with temples or prayers. He had never minded, however. Their corpses were their own temples, he had said, and the last breath of their lungs was the sweetest and most honest hymn to be sung.

 _Creepy bastard._

Mot sighed deeply as he eyed me, looking me up and down for signs of fear that had never been there.

"The first victim of your war, little brother." He said, inclining his head in the direction of the dead king. "I wonder how many more kings and princes will fall for your ego and glory. This one here has three generations after him now, all of which are of age to be taking up arms against Egypt. Will you risk that, Yahweh? Death is not cheap, believe me."

Rolling my eyes at him, I started to leave, but Mot held me fast.

"Do not dare turn your back on me, war god!" He bellowed, bringing himself closer to grab me, softly, yet threateningly around my throat. "You forget, I have yet to cede my cause to this great effort of yours. Brother or not, I will lay you low for affronting me thus."

Breaking myself away from him, I scowled. "I do believe, Mot, that this is the first time in the last forty years that you have spoken to me. Forgive me, brother, for affronting you by returning that silence. Now, what is it you've come for if not only to threaten me?"

"To fulfill my role, of course."

I must have looked confused because Mot continued. "I am death incarnate. This king is very much dead. Funerary rites, as you know, begin as a prayer and with a sacrifice to me. As a result, I bring myself to the earth. Believe what you wish of me, Yahweh, but I am not inclined to be so callous to the humans. Though I normally have servants to do so, in this instance, I wanted to collect the soul of this one myself. In death, their true feelings and memories are spilled out for me. _Nothing_ is hidden from my view. Your servant, here, pledged himself to you and did so with every part of himself. Since then, he has instilled the same feelings in the subsequent generations. They do love and worship you earnestly. On that, I commend you." Mot inclined his head in an act of rare respect to me. "In doing so, brother, I see that their devotion to you and your cause is very much real. And so, I must then do as I should have those forty years ago during your assembly."

 _Well, it's certainly about time._

"I, Mot, god of death, Lord of Sheol, and the second-born son of El Elyon, stand with you now, little brother. Against Egypt and her gods, in the protection of Canaan and the survival of our mortals on Adamah. I have been brought to war for far less, after all. In this war, I shall pack the Nile River with Egypt's dead so much so that its waters turn to blood. Darkness will envelop Egypt and Osiris shall vacate his throne with piss running down his legs when I come to claim it."

The onyx eyes of the god of Sheol glinted eerily in the darkness of the cavern we stood in. _By the gods, brother, did the Egyptians shit in your porridge this morning?_

I held out my hand to Mot, who grabbed my forearm in a finalizing embrace.

Finally.

Now the only god left to join my war was Yam. Though I hardly felt it necessary for the ancient Sea god to pledge himself if Mot was present.

"Brother," I told him, my heart burning with anticipation, "Ready the gates of Sheol. I foresee a sudden growth of subjects in your very near future."

Mot grinned at me. Oddly, I had seen him smile only a handful of times since time immemorial, and it had never failed to send a cold chill racing through me. "I have quite a large surprise for you, Yahweh, when we take to the field. As a god of war and battle, I know you will find it quite sensational."

The only sensation I felt at those words was dread. Not for myself, but for whatever catastrophe could be called a _surprise_ in Mot's mind.

"To war, brother," I responded.

Mot took his leave then, shrinking away back to Sheol. The rank smell of a rotting corpse followed him into the black nothingness.


End file.
